Opposite the Sun
by pyrrho
Summary: A hot call has Spike dealing with all the issues he's tried to repress, and may put him in danger as well. Spoilers for Slow Burn.
1. Chapter 1

Hey all! This is my first fanfic, so let me know how I'm doing. I've been reading for years, but haven't ever picked up the pen, so to speak, so any constructive criticism is welcome (as is praise!). I'm totally into Flashpoint, and especially Spike's character, which helped motivate me to write. Please, please review!

_Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?_

-Henry David Thoreau

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><p><em>Spike was running, away from the explosive containment truck, away from the mine, away from Lou. He was shouting at the team, and why weren't they listening to him, they needed shields, they needed water, this would work, it had to work- he couldn't think about what would happen if it didn't, because it was Lou, and he needed him, more than he needed anything. But the team, the team was just standing there, and they weren't helping, and what was going on-<em>

_Lou's voice crackled over his headset. "Spike," he said, and there was a pause._

_"Yeah, buddy?" another pause. "Lou!" And he was running through the weight transfer in his head, trying to figure out exactly how it would work, because failure wasn't an option, and it had to-_

_"It's gonna be okay." And there was a quiet resignation in Lou's voice, and Spike knew, in that moment, that it wasn't going to be okay, and there was a sickening rush as he realized what was going to happen, and he called out his friends name one last time. Before he had a chance to say anything else, he felt, rather than heard, the explosion behind him._

_And suddenly, he was screaming, and he was on the ground. He wasn't aware of anything except the pavement under him, and the knowledge that Lou was gone, and he wasn't ever going to be there again. The world closed in around him, and it took a long time to realize that Greg was there, rocking him back and forth as he cried, and he held on to his boss like a lifeline, because Lou was gone, Lou was gone, oh god Lou was gone-_

Spike shot up in bed with a gasp, drenched in cold sweat, sheets tangled around him. He sat there for a few moments, shaking and trying to regain his equilibrium. When felt he could move without throwing up, swung his legs over the side of the bed and checked the clock.

3:00 am. He groaned a little bit- he knew he wasn't going back to sleep, not after that dream, and he had just gotten to bed at midnight after a few rounds with the guys at the Goose. _Oh well_, he thought. _Just gives me more time to get ready for shift_.

He got out of bed and threw some clothes on, and cursed as he stubbed his toe on the corner of his dresser. He still wasn't used to the layout of his new apartment. He finally got out the door, and made his way to the kitchen, where he poured himself a glass of water and drained it. He examined his hands; still shaking. It was subsiding, though, and it wasn't as bad as it was the last time.

Spike shook his head. There shouldn't be a last time. But the dreams kept coming, and he kept shaking, so he might as well deal with it. He grabbed the cereal out of the cupboard, pulled a bowl out of the dishwasher, and sat down to eat.

When he was done, and had stalled as long as could, he glanced at the clock again.

3:40. _Well_, he thought, _might as well head in and put in some extra time in the weight room_. And so, with one last glance at his oddly silent apartment, he grabbed his bag and walked out to his car.

* * *

><p>At a few minutes before six, Greg Parker walked into SRU, fully confident that he would be the one of the only ones there. Team three was out on a call, Sid's shift was ending in a few minutes, and it was an hour before the rest of the team would start filtering in. So, as he nodded to Sid and walked into the locker room, he was more than a little surprised to see a gym bag thrown haphazardly onto the bench, it's contents looking dangerously close to spilling all over the ground. Greg righted the bag, still puzzled to how it had gotten there.<p>

He shrugged, and wrote it off as Sam being careless and leaving it the night before. It wouldn't be the first he had done it, after all. Greg walked over to his locker and pulled on a t-shirt and some sweatpants, ready to hit the gym. He had been holed with paperwork most of the last week, and was starting to feel it.

Grabbing his water bottle, he was just entering the gym when he heard a treadmill going, and the pounding of feet, running fast. _Maybe the bag wasn't Sam's_, he thought, wondering who was here so early.

He rounded the corner to see Spike, sweat dripping off him, looking like he was well into his workout.

Greg knew Spike had been having a hard time of it lately, with his father's death and his mother's subsequent departure. He had been concerned as to how Spike was dealing with it, but didn't want to push. Spike was probably the most sensitive member of the team, and was able to empathize with pretty much anybody, but was surprisingly tight about his own personal life and feelings. Greg hadn't known Spike's father was sick until the trying interview with Toth, and it worried him that he hadn't seen any of the signs. Hoping he wasn't missing anything now, he moved into Spike's line of sight and approached him slowly.

Spike didn't see Greg until he was nearly on top of him. When he looked up and saw him standing three feet away, he jerked reflexively and almost fell off the treadmill. He gathered his wits and righted himself, breathing hard. He wasn't expecting anyone to show for nearly another hour. He looked at Greg and inwardly groaned. His boss obviously wanted to talk, and that was the last thing Spike wanted to do at the moment.

"Hey buddy," Greg began warmly. "I didn't expect you to be here so early. Really surprised me when I saw your bag in the locker room. You might want to be a little more careful; I was almost picking up your stuff off the ground." He grinned as he poked fun at the younger man, trying to gauge his reactions.

Spike had forgotten all about his gym bag- he still wasn't thinking clearly from his dream, and had just flung it onto the bench before making his way straight to the treadmill. His face burned. The locker room was supposed to be clean: Ed was almost obsessive about that.

"I'm so sorry, boss, I wasn't thinking, and it won't happen again, I promise- I'll go deal with it now-" he tried to hurry past Greg, keeping his face down. He _really _didn't want to talk, but could see that was becoming unlikely unless he got out of there fast.

"Spike- Spike! Whoa there, buddy," Greg caught his arm, stopping him in his tracks. " I wasn't criticizing. We have plenty of time until the others get here, it can wait." Spike could feel Greg's calculating gaze on him, and wondered briefly what he was coming up with.

Nothing good, it turned out. "Why are you here so early, bud? Trouble at home?" _–It's gonna be okay-_ Spike's head shot up.

"No- no, boss, nothing like that. Just couldn't sleep, that's all." He felt sick to his stomach, but pasted a smile onto his face. He hoped it looked more convincing than it felt. "Thought I might do something productive with my time." He knew it sounded flimsy, and sure enough, Greg was looking at him, the skepticism clear in his eyes. Spike hoped he wouldn't pry any more into it; Lou's death was hard enough reliving at night. He didn't want to have to go through it in his waking hours too. "Really, boss, nothing wrong," he lied.

There was a long pause as Greg looked at him, debating whether or not to pursue it. Finally, he sighed and released Spike's arm. "You know I'm always here, right, Spike? Anytime you want to talk, you find me."

Spike felt a rush of gratitude. He was more grateful than ever of Greg's decision to stay- momentarily, he forgot his dreams, forgot the explosion –_it's gonna be okay_- and let Greg's comforting presence wash over him. Flashing his boss his first real smile of the day, he nodded. "I know, boss."

With that, he quietly turned away and made his way back to the locker room. It wouldn't do to have Ed find his bag on the bench.

Greg stood there for a long time after Spike disappeared, staring at the locker room door.

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><p>Review review!<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Hey all! Thanks for all the reviews for the last chapter, and especially the criticism. It really helps me move forward. On to chapter two!

_Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it? _

-Henry David Thoreau

* * *

><p>Spike sat in the locker room by himself, elbows on his knees as he stared blankly at the ground. He should have been paying attention, should have noticed Greg come in, should have been able to collect himself. He could manage, most days, and pretend nothing was wrong. He thought he had been doing pretty well with it, actually. But last night had been bad, and he hadn't been prepared for anyone yet, and didn't have time to get his mask up. He knew Sarge suspected something was wrong, and though it shouldn't, though he <em>knew<em> it shouldn't, the thought warmed him. It was… nice, somehow, to know someone cared enough to be worried.

And Spike knew his boss cared. Those words spoken on the beach had hit him like a freight train and left it hard for him to breathe. _Ti voglio bene come se tu fossi il mio figlio. _I love you as if you were my son. After his estrangement from his father, after his father _died –It's gonna be okay-,_ those words meant more to him than he wanted to admit.

Shaking his head, he stood up and walked to his locker, grabbing his bag along the way. And, as he carelessly stuffed it onto the top shelf, his eyes caught on a picture he had pinned to the door in a place of honor- right in the middle of pictures of his father, his mother, of everyone else in his family. He reached up and took it down, slowly turning it over in his hands. The faces of his team smiled at him, obviously enjoying their day on the beach. Sam and Jules had their arms around each other, as Raf stood close by. Ed was grinning at Greg, who was patting Wordy on the back. And in the middle of it all stood Spike, smiling goofily at the camera.

Spike couldn't help the smile that broke over his face as he examined the picture. These people were his family. It was both just as simple and just as complex as that.

Spike stood there, in front of his locker, for a long time. Eventually, he replaced the photo. He felt inexplicably better. In fact, he thought with a smile, he was almost _cheerful_, a feeling that he realized had been absent a long time. And, as he made his way to the showers, he realized with a sudden flash of clarity that he wouldn't have to pretend to be okay today.

* * *

><p>By the time the rest of the team arrived, Spike was back to his old self, cracking jokes in the locker room as the others got ready. As Greg entered the doorway, the tech expert was busy extolling the virtues of his mechanical girlfriend.<p>

Greg took a moment to observe. Spike looked drastically different than he had an hour ago. His head was high, his eyes were wide and alert, and he was smiling widely, reveling in the others' presence. Greg wondered what had caused the change. Deciding not to question it, he made his way into the midst of the group. Spike was still gushing over Babycakes.

"Spike," Greg groaned as he opened his locker, "when will you get over her?"

There was split second of hesitation as Spike remembered their earlier conversation, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

"Never, boss!" he adopted a wounded expression, his hand over his heart. "True love knows no-"

"I'm sure she has a great personality, Spike." Greg interrupted as put his hands on Spike's shoulders, looking him solemnly in the eye. "But she's…" and there was a long pause as everybody waited for the reminder that "she" was a robot.

"She's too young for you, buddy." Greg said with a grin. Raf barked out a laugh and Ed's hand went up for a high five, which Greg returned. Sam playfully shoved Spike, who had collapsed onto the bench, an arm covering his eyes, looking for all the world like a scorned lover.

"It's obvious that that you have never experienced a love like ours." he shook head mournfully. "I can only pity your ignorance."

At that moment, Jules peeked her head into the locker room, looking for the source of the commotion. She focused on Ed.

"Spike's busy robbing the cradle," he informed her matter-of-factly.

"Ah," she nodded sagely. "Babycakes?"

"Jules, how easily you forsake me!" Spike cried, jumping up.

"Dude, she was never on your side."

Spike turned on Raf. "And how would you know the female mind, hmm? You who wears the ladies' shirts?" He pulled at the v-neck that Raf never seemed to go without. Raf slapped his hand away, and this time it was Spike going in for the high five with Sam.

"Alright, kiddies, break it up." Greg was shaking his head, smiling. "Briefing room in five." Raf shot Spike a dark look, but all he got was an innocent smile.

"I'll get you for that, Spike." He said as he walked by. "I know where Babycakes lives."

The horror on Spike's face was almost comical. "Raf, she's off-limits! Raf! Wait!" he hurried out of the locker room after him, still fumbling into his boots. "Raf, please! I'm sorry! I think you're a manly man! The manliest of men, in fact! Please don't hurt her!" His voice slowly drifted off into the corridor, as Greg and Ed looked at each other.

"How much time do you think we should give it?"

Ed laughed, closing his locker. "Three minutes, tops, before he's on his knees groveling."

Greg considered for a second. "I'll give it two."

* * *

><p>Five minutes later, they were all gathered in the briefing room. Jules was lounging next to Sam, their shoulders almost touching. Greg was engaged in a quiet conversation with Ed in the corner, and Spike was glowering in the opposite corner, the knees of his pants looking suspiciously scuffed. Across the room, Raf sat on the table, a smug smile on his face.<p>

"Alright, team- Raf, off the table, please-," Greg said as he came out of his huddle. "No hot calls yet, so we're out on patrol today." He waited for the whoops to die down. "Jules and Raf, you're together-"

"Club district, please," Raf was quick to interject. Jules rolled her eyes, but acquiesced.

Ed was next. "Sam and I'll take East end. Could use some quiet time. Keeps the missus happy." He grinned as Sam shook his head. "You'll find out soon enough, loverboy." He looked up at Jules just in time to catch a crude hand gesture. He raised his eyebrows, smile never faltering.

"Okay then, Spike and I have west. Come on, everybody, let's hit the road. Keep the peace!" he shouted as the rest of the team filtered out. He kept his eyes on Spike, however. It had been good to see him so animated this morning, playing around with the other guys. But Greg knew better than anyone that the hurt didn't just go away.

"Hey Spike," he called softly. The younger man turned around and looked at him expectantly. Greg remembered their talk in the gym, and wanted to ask him what was wrong, ask him if he could do anything, but decided against it. Spike looked genuinely happy, even though he was pale and had bags under his eyes. If Spike wanted to talk to him, he would. Greg would respect his privacy as long as he felt he could. After all, he wanted Spike to trust him, and bullying answers out of him was not a good way to gain that trust.

He realized abruptly that Spike was still looking at him, now a little bit confused. "Boss?"

Greg looked down at his uniform critically. "Button up."

Spike grinned and looked down at his uniform shirt, hanging loosely around his shoulders. "Sure thing, boss."

He began fumbling with the buttons, and Greg sighed. For someone as good with his hands as Spike was, he had a shocking amount of trouble with the most menial tasks. _Well_, he thought, _at least he's steady when he's dealing with the things that matter._

Spike seemed to sense his thoughts, and grinned up at him. "It's the buttons, boss, really! They're impossible to deal with, anyone would have trouble with them!"

"Everyone else on the team has the same buttons, Spike, and they don't have any trouble," Greg pointed out reasonably.

"Ah, but they're not the same! See, Holleran is secretly in league with…"

As Spike rambled on about alien conspiracies and the importance of his buttons to national security, Greg herded him toward the door. Never stopping his rant, Spike bounced ahead of him. And as they headed out to the car, Greg allowed himself a smile. Spike would talk when he needed to.

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><p>So, a little happier than last time. :) But it won't stay that way for long...<p>

Review review!


	3. Chapter 3

Hey! Again, thanks for all the great reviews. You guys keep me going! (And yes, rgs38, this is my first fic :) )

_Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it? _

-Henry David Thoreau

* * *

><p>After half an hour of patrolling, Spike had quieted down some, and was resting comfortably in the passenger seat of the SUV. Since Greg was driving, his mind was free to wander, and he was currently considering whether to go with blue or grey for the new sofa in his apartment. <em>Grey<em>, he decided pleasantly. _Blue would clash with the carpet._ He was just moving on to the curtains when Greg pulled him out of his reverie.

"What're you thinking about, Spike? And before you answer, no, the Prime Minister did not strike a deal with the Martian government to help make clothing more confusing."

Spike smiled. "As far as _you_ know, boss… no, just mentally decorating my apartment. A lot of room to fill, you know?"

Greg glanced at him. "You doing okay with your folks gone? If you need help moving anything…"

Spike closed his eyes. "Yeah, I'm dealing with it fine." He grinned. "It's actually kind of nice not having to share a bathroom anymore. And I can handle a couch on my own, thanks." He opened his eyes and looked over mischievously. "Although, since you offered, I do still need help arranging all my books…"

Greg shuddered. Spike's library was beyond huge- when he and Jules had visited, there was not an inch of space on two whole walls of the younger man's room, and piles of books had littered the floor. "Oh no, Spike, I wasn't offering _my_ services. Just suggesting Sam could help you out, that's all."

"Nice save, boss. Don't worry, I'm almost done anyways. But tell me, how are _you_ doing? Is Dean enjoying the mean streets of Toronto?"

"Yeah, he loves it here." Greg nodded. "Or at least he says he does. He's actually visiting his mom in Dallas for a few weeks right now. I feel bad for him, having to go back and forth like this." In reality, he felt bad that he was the cause of it. "He deserves a little stability in his life."

"You know, boss, he chose to live with you for a reason." Spike said seriously. "If Dean was unhappy about any of this, he would have stayed in Dallas. Trust me on this one. He wants to be here."

Greg smiled. "You're right, I guess. He's a great kid and I'm lucky to have him. To be honest, my house feels a little empty with him gone."

"I know what you mean," Spike commiserated. "What about Marina? Is she keeping you busy?"

"Away visiting family too. I'm my own for a little while."

Spike sat up. "Hey! We're both alone- you and me should have dinner!" he said brightly. " I can make some pasta, and you can make…" He considered it for a moment and blanched. "Well, you can buy dessert."

"I'm not _that_ bad a cook!" Greg said, affronted. "Those steaks were an exception!"

"Boss, even Donna's dog refused to go within three feet of them. Don't worry, I'm sure you're going to be great at picking out a dessert," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "Ooh! I can make ma's secret bread- just wait 'til you try it! - and I'll break out the big pot for the spaghetti sauce…"

Greg grumbled under his breath as Spike continued to outline their dinner. _That dog was sick. I'm a great cook, I'm just not appreciated by the team. Or Marina. Or Dean. _Okay, so maybe Spike had a point.

Spike was still talking. "This is gonna be so fun! You and me, partners in crime, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid- Oh! That reminds me- we've got to watch a movie, too! What do you want to see?" he smiled. "Ladies in Waiting?"

Greg groaned. "What is this, go after Greg day? You choose the movie, I don't care." He leaned back and fiddled with his earpiece. "Team one, what's your status? Keeping the streets clear?"

Ed responded first. "All good, Greg. Just bonding with Samtastic here. We're scoping out some new strollers for him now."

"Someone is seriously about to get hurt here," came Sam's growl over the mic.

"Alright, alright, no fighting," Greg replied sternly. "Go easy on him, Ed. Don't push too far. Jules, Raf?"

"Just cruising here, boss. Although Raf here is doing his fair share of ogling."

"What can I say? These girls are _fine_."

"You'll get plenty of time for that off-duty. Okay, everyone, stay sharp. Let us know if something comes up." Everybody chimed in his or her agreement as Greg signed off.

* * *

><p>For the next hour, Spike and Greg continued chatting easily, trading stories and quips. Greg enjoyed the down time. They were so often caught up in tense situations, in observing the worst moments of peoples' lives, that it was easy to overlook the good parts of the job. He felt relaxed, and the lack of hot calls was a welcome change of pace. The pair settled into a comfortable silence, each caught up in their own thoughts.<p>

Spike glanced out the window. He caught sight of a little boy walking along with his parents, spinning around to take in all the sights of the city, obviously having the time of his life. Spike paused, his smile faltering. Images of his own family, thousands of miles away in Italy, flashed through his head. His mother, who couldn't afford to make long distance calls, his brother, who had his own life with his own children, and the empty bedroom where his father should have been sleeping. Spike had made his decision long before his father had died, when he was demanding that Spike quit the SRU, and while he didn't regret it for one second, he still missed them. The empty lines of his apartment reminded him every day of the miles and miles of ocean that separated him from Italy.

He looked back out the window. The boy was skipping now, pulling along his parents. As the SUV passed them, Spike craned his head to keep them in sight. The movement caught Greg's attention. Looking at the kid, and at Spike's expression, it was not hard to put two and two together.

"Spike, are you okay?" he asked carefully, pulling his earpiece out. Spike turned to him, and Greg motioned for him to do the same. Spike slowly complied.

"Yeah, boss." He said with a half- hearted smile. "Just thinking about my family. I miss them sometimes."

"I know, buddy. I missed my family for a long time too." Greg thought for a long minute about what to say next. "Do you remember when CSIS approached me and asked about you?" He finally settled on. Spike nodded.

"You know they would have offered you more money, more downtime, and a safer environment?" Again, Spike nodded. Greg paused for a moment. "What made you decide to stay?"

Spike looked back out the window, but the boy was gone, melting into the crowd. The question was a complicated one, and he wasn't sure he knew how to answer.

Greg let him think it over. He needed Spike to see where he was coming from without being too obvious. But as the silence went on, he started to think that Spike wasn't going to answer. He sighed to himself. _Pushed too hard, _he thought. He was just about to tell Spike to forget about it when the younger man answered.

"Boss," he said slowly, "our job is one of the hardest jobs out there. When I joined the force, and saw all the violence out there, the sick people doing sick things, innocent people lying face down in the gutter, I nearly couldn't take it." Spike had a faraway expression on his face. "The only thing that kept me going was knowing that one day I would be tougher, and that those things wouldn't bother me as much, and I could come home and just forget about the job and about all the people out there that needed our help- my help- and everything would be okay. I knew cops like that, who could just look at a body and walk away like nothing had happened."

Greg nodded. He knew those cops too. Spike looked out the window again, determinedly not looking towards Greg. The boss kept his silence, waiting for him to finish.

"But boss, it never happened to me. I never _ever_ forget the faces of the people I couldn't save," and here he swallowed hard _–Its gonna be okay-_ but pushed on. "And it never gets easier, and I know it never will. But here, with this team, we face those things together, and every one of us understands it. And that bond is why I couldn't leave. I'm doing the most important thing I could ever hope to be doing, and I'm doing it with the people I love best. And that's what keeps me going now. We're a SWAT team, yeah, but we're a family too, and you can't just up and leave something like that."

Greg didn't answer. Spike looked over at him, suddenly embarrassed, but Greg kept on driving, his expression inscrutable. Spike was just about to apologize, when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Just remember that, Spike." Greg said, his eyes still forward. "We've always got your back." And it might have just been Spike's imagination, but he thought he heard the boss' voice waver.

* * *

><p>"So," Raf said to Jules, halfway across town. "How long have you and Sam been together?" Jules looked over suspiciously, ready to shut down any jokes coming her way, but Raf seemed genuinely interested. She decided it couldn't hurt to tell him, and anyways, he could always just ask Ed or the boss.<p>

"We first got together almost three years ago, but I ended that. But after Toth…" she trailed off. "Well, we started back up again. Figured we were already screwed, so why not just go for it, right?"

Raf paused, incredulous. "And Sarge knew? I can't see that being a good way to start a relationship."

Jules laughed ruefully. "You're absolutely right, Raf. We were being stupid and reckless, but no, Sarge didn't know at first. And it all worked out, you know? Toth didn't turn out to be the monster we all thought he was." She crinkled her nose. "Still don't like him, though. Reminds me of a pitbull."

"Well, I never really met him, so I can't pass judgment. From the way you all talk about him, he seems pretty harsh. I'm happy for you, by the way."

Jules looked at him, confused by the seeming non-sequitor.

"You and Sam," he clarified. "You guys seem really good together."

"Yeah, well, I like him." Jules smiled. "I wish Ed would stop giving us crap, though. It gets annoying after a while."

Raf turned to her seriously. "I can talk to him about it, if you want." He offered. "I know I'm the rookie, but I can take whatever he dishes out. If you don't want him talking about you guys, then he shouldn't be doing it."

"No, no, he'll stop as soon as the novelty wears off. It's just Ed." She turned to him. "But, Raf? Thanks. You're a good guy."

Raf smiled. "And that, friend, is why the ladies love me."

Jules groaned and punched him in the shoulder. "And, it's gone as soon as it came," she quipped. But the rest of the car ride was spent in a more companionable silence.

* * *

><p>"I'm hungry."<p>

"What are you, five? Poor widdle Sammie didn't get his juice box this morning?"

"I didn't have breakfast, okay?" Sam grumbled. "I need my sustenance. "

Ed rolled his eyes. "We don't stop for another hour, kid." He sighed. "Reach over into my bag. I think there's a granola bar in there somewhere. But you owe me one."

Sam nodded and twisted around in his seat, looking for Ed's bag. "The one on the left?" He called. Ed grunted the affirmative. Sam grabbed and pulled it forward onto his lap, immediately beginning to rummage through it.

"Hey, careful with that!"

Sam slowed down a little, and eventually found the granola bar. As he was pulling it out, though, something else caught his eye. "Ed… what is this?" Sam slowly pulled something pink out of the bag. Ed glanced over, did a double take, and lunged for the object in Sam's hand. Sam whipped it just out of reach.

"Give it back, Sam. That's private!"

But Sam ignored him and studied the pink blob in his hands. "Is this…" he started gleefully. "Is this a baby toy, Eddie? In your bag?"

Ed made another unsuccessful bid to recover the toy. "Give it to me, Sam! Now!"

"It is! Oh my god, it is!" He crowed, delighted. "You carry a baby toy around with you. Oh, this is priceless!"

"Izzy gave it to me, Sam! It has sentimental value!" Ed could do nothing to diminish Sam's glee, however.

"Do you take it everywhere you go? I have to say, it doesn't quite mesh with your 'fearless leader' image. Oh, wait 'til Spike hears about this, Ed! He'll never let you live it down!"

Ed paled. "No, Sam, no one ever hears about this, understand? I'll make your life a living hell."

Sam considered for a second. "Okay, I'll cut you a deal. The team won't know about this if you don't say a single thing about Jules and me for a whole month, agreed?"

"A week."

"Three weeks."

"Two."

"Agreed." The grin never left Sam's face as he shook on it with Ed.

* * *

><p>They had been patrolling a little over three hours when Greg called a lunch break. There was a nice Italian place that he frequented, and sure enough, Spike loved it. As they ate, all the kids in the area flocked to their table, eager to see the policemen in their cool uniforms. Spike basked in the attention, letting them touch his vest, his pads, his belt, everything but his gun. He smiled at Greg over a sea of heads.<p>

"This part of the job is pretty great too, boss!" He called. "They love us!" He kept playing with them until it was time to go. When Greg stood up, he sighed and shooed them off, but the smile remained on his face. They walked over to the car together, a trail of little people in their wake, each trying to get one last glimpse at the uniforms.

"They seem to like you a lot, Spike."

"Yeah, well, I love kids. They're so innocent and funny. It's a great combination." Spike smiled. "I bet they all grow up and change the world."

"I bet you're right, Spike. If I-" The siren from the car cut him off. Immediately, they were all business. Spike swung into the passenger seat, and Greg jogged around the front to get behind the wheel.

Winnie's voice came over the speakers. "Team one, hot call."

There was something wrong with the way she was speaking. She seemed hesitant, as if she wasn't sure she wanted to be talking to them- Winnie, whose professionalism was unquestioned. "Teams three and four are already out, or I wouldn't have-"

"Winnie," Greg asked. "What's the call?"

There was a deafening silence on the other end of the line. Then, finally, she answered. "Aberdeen and 7th, boss. Tilden Elementary School. Reports of…" she trailed off.

"Winnie, now!" Greg barked, becoming a little bit worried. If Winnie was reacting like this, the situation was bad.

When her voice came back over the earpieces, it was shaking. "Reports of a possible landmine."

And there was silence.

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><p>Review review!<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

Hey everyone! I've got to say, this chapter was really hard for me to write. It's certainly not as light as the first three. :) I don't know if everyone is completely in character, but I guess you'll see. Also, a teensy weensy bit of language in this chap. Nothing too bad. Thanks so much for all the reviews!

_Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?_

-Henry David Thoreau

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><p><em>Previously:<em>

_"Winnie, now!" Greg barked, becoming a little bit worried. If Winnie was reacting like this, the situation was bad._

_When her voice came back over the earpieces, it was shaking. "Reports of a possible land mine."_

_And there was silence._

* * *

><p>No one spoke for a long moment. Greg closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could hear Ed curse loudly over the mic, and Jules let out a soft groan. Raf and Sam were silent.<p>

Composing himself as best as he could, he turned to the passenger seat. Spike was sitting ramrod straight, pale as a sheet. There was a thin line of sweat on his brow, and although his gaze was forward, Greg suspected from his glassy eyes that he wasn't seeing a thing. Greg didn't know what to say.

"Winnie," he finally managed, still watching Spike. "Are you sure about the other teams?" He hoped desperately for her to say that yes, she could pull team three, or that sure, team one could switch with team four. After all, it was only a hostage situation, right?

"I'm sorry, boss," was her reply. "You're all we've got."

He rubbed his temples. "Spike…" he said softly. Spike appeared not to hear him. "Spike, are you with me, buddy?" He reached out and touched his arm. Spike slowly turned to face him, but it was obvious that he wasn't all there. "Spike," he called a little more insistently. "Can you do this, bud?"

Spike stirred. "What?" he asked blankly. "Oh. Yeah, boss. I can do it." His eyes weren't focused, and his body hadn't relaxed at all. He turned back in his seat. His hands were gripping his knees so hard, his knuckles had turned white. He spoke again, this time more determined. "I can do it."

Greg leaned back in his seat. His chest felt tight, and he was having trouble breathing normally. He switched on the sirens and pulled out into the street, tires squealing and pedestrians watching in morbid fascination as they drove off. As he brought up Aberdeen and 7th on the GPS, he reflected that it was times like these he hated the job.

* * *

><p>Spike, as soon as he heard the word "land mine", shut down. The car, his team, Greg; they all faded away into the image of Lou stepping off the mine, the feel of the hot pavement under his knees, and the phrase that had haunted him for two years. <em>It's gonna be okay.<em> It wasn't okay._ It's gonna be okay._ It was never okay. He felt nauseous. Greg was saying something, but he couldn't tell what it was, and didn't particularly care. It was _never_ okay.

Greg touched his arm. He turned slowly toward him, still reliving every moment of that day in his head. Greg was looking at him expectantly. What had he asked? He took a moment to process it. He remembered. Yeah, he could do it. _It's gonna be okay. _He hadn't been able to do it then, but he could now. _It's gonna be okay_. No one else would die today because he couldn't defuse another damn bomb. "I can do it." He said again.

He sat still as they pealed off onto the street, getting his thoughts in order. _Don't think of anything but what happens today_, he told himself. _You have a chance to save more lives_. _Make the most of it_. Lou's face flashed through his mind again, but he shoved it down hard.

Finally, he collected himself enough to speak. "Winnie," he croaked. He tried again. "Winnie?"

"Yeah, Spike?" Her response was immediate.

"I need everything you have." He tried desperately not to throw up.

"Caller was a Walter Reiden. American, served in Vietnam. He's a teacher at Tilden."

Ed broke in. "You said this was an elementary school?" When Winnie replied in the affirmative, he swore. "Jesus. Who would booby trap an elementary school? It's just a bunch of kids."

"Are the kids inside the building? And why does he suspect landmines?" Spike asked flatly.

"The children are still in the building. Reiden put the school into lockdown. Nobody in, nobody out. As for the mines, he claims he went outside for a smoke and saw a tripwire. Recognized them from his time in the war."

"Get uniforms to establish a perimeter." Greg glanced at Spike. "50 meters. Can you get Walter on the phone, Winnie? I need to find out how much this guy knows." He said.

"Just a second, boss. Patching him through."

"Is this Water Reiden? My name is Sargent Greg Parker, with the SRU. You did the right thing today, calling us." Greg slipped easily into his negotiating voice. "Can you walk me through how you found the wires again, please? We need to know what to expect here."

Reiden's voice came through the earpiece. It was shaky. "I was on my break. I don't have a class right before lunch, so I was in the lounge grading some papers. About, uh… about 15 minutes before the kids were supposed to get out, I went outside for a smoke. I don't usually go out during the school day, but today I had a headache and felt like I needed it. Anyway, that's when I saw the trip wire. I served in Vietnam, and they were all over the place there. I know it wasn't there in the morning- there were kids running all around, and someone would have triggered it-" his breath hitched. He took a moment, and continued. "I told the principle there might be a bomb outside, and he locked down the school. Sargent, I just- I just don't understand who would do this."

"I know, Walter. Thank you. You did great." Greg soothed. "It might be a false alarm; some kid playing a trick on his friends."

"Ask him how he saw the wire," said Spike. "They're almost impossible to see from eye level." Greg looked over. Spike's voice was still flat, and he was staring straight out the window in front of him.

"Walter, how did you see the wire? I understand they're pretty hard to spot." Greg asked.

"Oh- it's a windy day, you know, and I was watching the leaves blowing around. I noticed a lot of them were catching on something really close to the ground. So I bent down to look, and there it was."

"That's great, Walter. A few more questions: what time does school start, and who has access to the grounds during the day?"

"School starts at eight, but I think everyone was inside by 7:55. And anybody can get onto school property. There's no fence or anything to keep them away. It wasn't any of the teachers, though. They were all in their classrooms this morning, except for the three people that were in the break room with me."

"Okay, Walter, thanks again. We'll be in touch." Greg switched channels. "Everybody get that?" He asked. There was a subdued chorus of yes's. "Okay, Winnie, check up on anybody with a possible grudge against the school. Ex-teachers, neighbors with complaints, anything. Get back to me when you know something." He turned to Spike. "What kinds of explosives use trip wires, Spike? Does it have to be a mine?"

"It's most likely. Any large bombs would have to be above ground, and they can't be concealed very easily. The whole point of a trip wire is for stealth. You don't know it's there until you trigger it." Spike wasn't looking at him. His expression was fixed, and his voice still lacked any inflection whatsoever. "I won't know for sure until I get there."

"Okay, Spike, that's good news. At least we have an idea about what we're dealing with here. And Spike?" he paused for a minute. "No one's standing on this one. We're going to get through this." No reaction. Greg wanted to push, wanted to yell, wanted to shake him until he started talking. He didn't. "We're getting close, okay, bud? What do you need?"

"Metal detector in Ed's truck. Flags, possibly shields. I'll know more when I see what I'm dealing with."

"Okay, we can work with that." It was the best he was going to get.

* * *

><p>Raf had never seen Jules so grim. She was gripping the wheel tightly, and her gaze was focused solely on the road. She hadn't spoken a word since the hot call came in. He didn't know what to make of it. He knew that the job was high stress, but Jules reacted well under pressure. This was different. And the worst part was, he didn't have the slightest fix on what could have caused it. He decided to grab the bull by the horns.<p>

"Jules," he asked hesitantly. "What's up with this call? Why is everyone so upset? I mean, I know the job's hard, but-"

No, Raf." She interrupted. "Have you seen the plaque on the locker next to Spike's? Lewis Young?"

He had. "Yeah, it said he gave his life to keep the peace or some- oh. Oh. God, I'm sorry, I didn't realize."

"He stepped on a landmine when he was defusing a bomb. Spike tried for more than an hour to find a way to get him off of it without it detonating, but the guy who had set it had... he had glued the safety pin. Spike didn't have a chance, and Lou knew it. So when Spike latched onto a plan that was going to get them both killed, Lou waited until Spike was out of range and stepped off the mine. He was killed instantly. Spike hasn't been the same since."

Raf closed his eyes. The rest of the ride was spent in silence.

* * *

><p>Spike and Greg rounded a corner, and the school was in sight. It was a big brick building on an even bigger lot, with modern windows and a glass atrium set behind the main doors. It looked oddly forlorn, with no movement at all within the perimeter.<p>

Greg pulled behind the first responder's car, and immediately hopped out. "Ed, Jules, what's your ETA?"

"30 seconds, boss."

"Two minutes here."

"Okay, make it fast. Officer, what's happened since you got here?" A uniform turned around and began to report.

Spike began mechanically surveying the area. There was a long road leading up the school, ending at a playground, which stood ten meters away from the front of the atrium. There were trees interspersed throughout the property, and no asphalt except for the road and a parking lot in the southeast corner. The playground was surrounded by packed dirt, and around the sides of the school thick grass provided most of the ground cover. _Lots of places to plant a mine_, he thought.

He turned around when he heard Jules and Raf speeding toward the perimeter. After coming to a stop, they were out of the car and rushing towards Greg in an instant. Spike noticed Jules kept glancing at him, worry lines evident in her face. He ignored her.

Sam and Ed were next. They immediately began pulling equipment out of the trunk. Greg motioned for everybody to gather round. "We've got possible landmines here. Nothing definite yet, but if it comes to anything, we've got to work on getting those kids out. Spike is going out there with the metal detector to see what we're looking at. Spike?"

"It's too much ground to cover. I need a second sweeper, and we'll need to cover the area in a grid pattern. Does anyone have any experience with anything like this?" He was beginning to focus, and the tunnel vision was slowly receding as he concentrated entirely on the issue at hand.

Sam raised his hand. "I've got some experience. We sometimes swept in Afghanistan when the demolition experts were too far away to help."

Spike nodded. "Get the second detector, then." He pointed at a map of the grounds. "Four quadrants. You take east, I'll take west. Start 30 meters out, and meet up here." He pointed at the double doors. "Be extremely careful of trip wires. Keep the detector at least four inches above the ground, and watch where you step. If you find anything, set a flag, and note it on the map." He handed it to him. "Do _not_ move within three feet of any mine you find. Radios on the whole time."

Sam went to grab the detector. Ed looked at Spike seriously. "You got this?" Spike nodded and turned to go. Ed stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Are you sure, Spike? Because if there's anything we need-"

Spike whirled around violently. "I said I've got this!" he snarled. Jules started, and Raf took a step back. Even Ed looked shocked. "Now get off me and let me do my job!" Spike twisted out of Ed's grip and stalked off toward the perimeter. Ed started to follow, but Greg stepped in front of him.

"Let him go, Eddie. He needs to focus right now." Ed looked ready to protest, but Greg shut him down with a look. "I'm serious, Ed. Now's not the time. Now, I've got to go after my bomb tech. Can I trust you to keep a cool head?" Ed just looked at him coldly and started jogging to the command truck. Greg sighed.

"Spike!" he turned and yelled. "Hold up for just a second!" Spike stopped and waited for Greg to catch up. "Spike, I just-"

"What is it? Are you going to ask me if I can handle this too? I've already told you I can, boss, and I meant it." Spike said, belligerent.

Greg just looked at him, and put both hands on his shoulders. "I know you can, Spike. Remember what we were talking about in the truck? This is your family. Remember how much you mean to us. Just promise you'll be careful, okay, buddy?"

Spike looked at him and nodded, and while he didn't smile, Greg thought he saw the slightest softening of his eyes. "Yeah, boss. I promise." And, with that, he ducked under the perimeter and started towards the school.

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><p>Again, not a light chapter. The next couple probably won't be either. Spike and land mines don't like each other very much.<p>

Review review!


	5. Chapter 5

Gosh, this was a tough one. Also, very technical. I did a _lot_ of research, so I think most of the stuff in this chapter is pretty accurate, but I tried to keep the technical explanations to a minimum. I don't think I did very well... As always, thanks for the reviews!

_Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?_

-Henry David Thoreau

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><p>Fifteen minutes into the sweep, Sam found the first mine. It was directly between the school and the playground, its presence heralded by a trip wire. "Spike?" he called. "I've found one. I'm in the northeast quadrant, between the school and the playground. It's right on the path, Spike. Another trip wire too." He waved the detector cautiously around the mine. Directly east of the first mine, it beeped again. "Scratch that, Spike, there are two mines." The detector beeped again. "Three."<p>

Spike groaned. As if one wasn't bad enough. "Three, Sam? How far apart are they?"

Sam was busy sweeping the area for any more unexpected surprises, but his search came up clean. "About six feet. They're all in a straight line. It's weird, actually. They're perfectly spaced." He bent closer to put flags on each one, wary of the trip wire.

"Are you sure there are three? In a straight line?" Sam looked closer. He was sure. When he told Spike, the tech's voice was low and deadly serious as it crackled over the speaker. "Sam, what do you smell?"

"Uh, almonds? Yeah, definitely almonds."

"Okay, Sam. You need to get out of there _now_. Go back exactly the way you came, and slowly." Sam started to protest, but Spike cut him off. "Do as I say, Sam. Now."

"Boss," Spike said quietly. "Move the perimeter back to 100 meters. Set the crowd's at 200- but do not approach within 100 meters of the school." He was sweating. He distantly heard Ed and Raf yelling at people to back up. As Sam started to retreat, Spike took a quiet moment to panic. He stood stock still, his stomach churning. Greg was yelling into the mic.

"Spike, you need to let me know what's going on! We're moving the perimeter back, and withdrawing to 100 meters." The worry was clear in his voice. "What's the matter, Spike?"

Spike took a deep breath. "Three mines in a row like that? I'm almost certain that's a frag chain. They started using them about 10 years ago in Iraq and Afghanistan. They're jerry-rigged to blow together. You trip one- that's what the wire is for- and the other two go off sequentially. Covers a wider area. And, if they're anything like the ones I've read about, they're packed with shrapnel, and sometimes a nerve gas or some other airborne chemical. If it smells like almonds, it's almost definitely hydrogen cyanide, boss. Fatal within ten minutes if inhaled. The mines themselves are bounding, just like-" he stopped. "Just like last time. Um, the blast radius of the explosion is small, maybe eight feet, but the shrapnel will probably kill anyone within 20 meters, and could injure anyone within 80 meters, maybe more. The gas should dissipate about 60 meters outside the blast radius unless it gets into a ventilation system." He shuddered. "Whoever planted these, boss, they _really_ know what they're doing. Probably military."

Greg swore. "What can we do, Spike?"

"I'm putting on a mask and then I'm going to finish sweeping the area. When I'm done I'll come join you guys to get some more gear. Tell the uniforms I'm going to need a fine bit drill and some military grade combat boots. Also, flame retardant foam canisters from the closest fire station. Pull the liquid nitrogen from the truck. Then get Reiden on the phone and tell him to collect all matches, lighters, anything that might conceivably start a fire, and put them in a bucket of water so that they're entirely submerged. HCN is extremely flammable, even in low concentrations. It'll light the building up." He slowly moved forward, holding the metal detector as far as he could in front of him. "Boss, this might take a while." His voice was clipped.

"Can we send someone back out to help you?"

"One man down-range, boss. I've got this on my own. And I'm going to need as few distractions as possible, so I'm switching to channel four. If you need me…"

"Right, Spike. Channel four."

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><p>As Spike swept the area, Jules was staring intently at the computer screen in the command truck, typing commands as fast as she could. Greg was pacing behind her, agitated. "Check anyone in the area for service records. Any explosive experts, I want to know. Winnie? Anything on the school?"<p>

"No, Sarge. It's squeaky clean. The only complaints have been minor, like a ball being kicked into a backyard too many times."

"Bring those up anyway, Winnie. We need all the leads we can get. I'll send Raf over to check them out." As Winnie gathered the names, Greg turned to Jules. "Anything?"

She shook her head. "No demolitions experts from either Iraq or Afghanistan live within a 70 mile radius. I'm drawing a blank here."

Greg hit the table in front of him, hard, and whirled around and jumped out of the truck. "Raf," he yelled. "Winnie's sending some addresses. I want you to go check them out, see if find anything out of the ordinary." As Raf jogged off, he turned to Sam. "Do you have any experience with these frag chains?"

"I've only ever heard of them, boss. The deminers in our unit kept saying whenever they dealt with a mine that at least it wasn't a frag chain. I think they can be disarmed, though. They're not pressure sensitive, so the pin only pulls when the wire is tripped. They're just harder and more dangerous to defuse than other mines. And it takes more time." He frowned. "I should go back out there and help Spike. He could do with an extra pair of eyes. Or at least another metal detector."

Greg shook his head. "Spike's right, Sam." His voice was tight. "One man down-range." He spun around. "Somebody better get me that equipment _now_!" He yelled at the uniforms.

Ed's hand on his shoulder stopped him short. Ed pulled out his earpiece, and Greg followed his lead. When Ed spoke, it was in a low, calm voice. "Greg, you need to calm down." He looked intently at his boss. "You're not helping anybody like this. We're all worried about Spike, but this is his job. He knows the risks, and he'll be careful."

Greg deflated. "God, Eddie…" he leaned back against the truck. "I can't lose another person like this. Not _Spike_. I can't… I don't know what I'd do." His hands came up and rubbed at his eyes. "I should tell him to get out, let someone else deal with it-"

"Greg, there are 200 kids inside that school. If there's gas, we need to do something fast, and Spike is the only one who can do it. You know there's no one better than him. He can defuse these mines, Greg. He's going to be okay." He clapped him on the shoulder. "He'll be okay." He repeated. When Greg finally nodded, he smiled. "Good. Now put your earpiece in. We've got work to do."

As he ran back to check the status of the perimeter, Greg stared after him for a second and attempted to gather himself. Ed was right. He put his earpiece back on and called Winnie. "I need Walter Reiden back on the line. Sam, go clear people out of the nearest houses, anything within 200 meters of the school. If this goes wrong, we can't risk any shrapnel going through the windows."

Winnie patched Reiden through. "Hello, Walter? This is Greg Parker again. How are you doing in there? Are the kids all okay?" He waited for a response. "That's great, Walter. We're going to get you guys out as soon as we can. Now, is there a room anywhere in the middle of the building, with no windows? An auditorium? Can you start moving everyone in there, please? Avoid windows on your way; shut the doors when everybody's there. Don't let anybody out. Remember to avoid windows. Also, I need you to collect any lighters, matches, burners- anything that might cause a fire. You need to submerge them completely in water and leave them there. Do you understand? Thank you so much, Walter. You're doing great here. Everyone's going to get out safely." He ended the call and buried his face in his hands.

* * *

><p>Spike had been sweeping for over an hour and he still hadn't found any mines. He had cleared both the southeast and the southwest quadrants, and was working his way up the west side of the grounds, towards the front of the school. <em>So<em>, he thought. _There's at least one chain in the northeast, and probably a second one by the front door, if the teacher's trip wire pans out. _He switched to channel three. "Boss?"

Greg's response was immediate. "Yeah, Spike? Did you find any more mines?"

"No, but I think I'll find another chain near the back door. One in front of the door, another in front of the playground? This guy is placing them for maximum casualties. He wants as many kids dead as possible. The back door makes sense. Boss, if Reiden hadn't seen that wire…"

"I know, Spike. I know. When do you think you'll finish sweeping? We've got the drill, boots, and foam here."

"Probably about another half hour. Since Sam cleared most of northeast, I really only have one more quadrant to go. I'm getting close to the back doors, so I'm switching back to channel four. I'll let you know when I'm done." At Greg's affirmation, he went to channel four and approached the doors slowly. Sure enough, about ten feet from the side of the school, the detector beeped. Sweeping the area, Spike found two more mines next to the first, aligned and perfectly spaced. There was another trip wire strung across the path to the door. He lifted his mask. Almonds. He groaned and set the flags, marking their position on the map. Making sure he hadn't missed any mines, he backed up a few meters, stopping a good distance away. Then, let out a shaky breath and bent over, hand on his knees. Definitely frag chains, then.

Greg's voice came over the comm. "Spike? What's wrong, buddy?" _He must have binoculars_, thought Spike. He laughed a little hysterically. _He's watching everything I do_. He had a ridiculous urge to stick his tongue out at his boss, but repressed it. It was the stress and the adrenaline talking.

"I'm okay, boss." He managed after a few seconds. "It's definitely frag bombs. He's wired the back door. I'm going to finish sweeping, but I don't think I'll find anything. All the critical places are covered. He wouldn't have needed to go any further."

"Okay, Spike, but you be careful, you hear? Go slowly, and don't take any chances."

"Yeah, boss. Could you switch back to channel three, please? I need quiet." He stood up and adjusted his grip on the detector. The boss was right. He shouldn't take any unnecessary risks. He pushed everything out of his head and began to sweep the area again.

* * *

><p>Behind the perimeter, Sam and Raf had returned. "No luck, boss," said Raf. "Everybody on the list was accounted for this morning. No one saw anything, either, and they all seemed pretty normal- let me sweep their houses, and were very cooperative. I don't think any of them had anything to do with this."<p>

"Okay, Raf, thanks. Sam, did you clear the houses? Yeah? Good." There were people starting to gather at the perimeter. "Hey, Ed? I need you to contain that crowd. See if anyone saw something this morning, and if there are any parents of the kids in the school, calm them down." He turned around, frustrated. They were at a dead end with the hunt for suspects, and all they could do now was wait for Spike to come back and give them more information about what they were dealing with. He looked through the binoculars again. Spike had cleared the northwest quadrant, and had moved to covering the areas that Sam had missed in the northeast.

"Boss?" Ed's voice came over the mic. "I think we've got a witness here. I'm sending her over."

"That's really good, Ed, thanks." "He switched to channel four. "You might want to hear this, Spike. We've got a witness."He jogged over to meet the uniform that was escorting a woman to the command truck. "I've got it from here. Thanks, officer." He turned to the woman. "Hi, my name is Sargent Greg Parker. I hear you saw something today at the school?"

"Y-yes," she stuttered, obviously intimidated by the uniform. "I was walking my dog down that road there," she pointed to a road west of the school, "and I saw a man crouched down in front of the doors. He was fiddling with something, I couldn't see what. I know most of the people in the neighborhood, so I started walking towards him and called out. When he turned around, I didn't recognize his face. He seemed really agitated."

"That's wonderful, Ms…."

"Oh! Diamond. Katie Diamond."

"Great, Ms. Diamond. Do you think you could recognize him if you saw him again?"

"Yes, I think so. He was about 5'10'', Caucasian, with dark hair and a beard. He was wearing a red and blue plaid shirt and jeans, if that helps."

"It does, thank you. About what time did you see him?"

"Around 9:30, I'm guessing."

"Thank you, Ms. Diamond. You've helped up out a lot." Greg led her to the command truck. "Do you think you could wait in the truck? We may need you again soon." As soon as she had stepped in, he was over the comm. "Did everyone get that? Dark hair, beard, and possibly wearing a plaid shirt and jeans. Eddie, check the crowd, they sometimes like to watch their handiwork. Jules, keep searching for servicemen in the area. Let Ms. Diamond see if she recognizes anybody." He checked Spike's progress again. "Spike, what do you think?"

"Time window's too short, boss. He couldn't have done this in two hours. My guess is that he set the bombs over the weekend and came back to arm them today. Also, if he's using hydrogen cyanide, he would have to have someone working with him to contain it. Look for two guys, at least one of whom knows how to handle a bomb. The second guy probably supplied the HCN; see if there are any places near here that have been recently fumigated, and check local exterminators. They might be missing chemicals. Also, get a decontamination unit out here. If things go south, they need cloth soaked in sodium nitrate and a charcoal and water solution. If they're both administered within 5 minutes of inhalation, anyone exposed will have a much better chance of survival." Spike picked up the metal detector. "I'm done here, boss. Coming to meet you now."

Greg nodded. "Winnie, get on that decontamination unit. Jules, I want you to follow up on the chemicals. Pull a list of anything promising, and go check it out. Ed, Sam, Spike's making his way back to us. Come with me and meet him. Winnie can keep on trying the military records."

* * *

><p>Spike was exhausted. He had cleared the area and was heading back to the team, but was walking slowly, the metal detector almost dragging in the dirt behind him. He remembered the dream and the three hours of sleep he had gotten the night before.<em> Nine mines. Of all the times this could have happened<em>, he started to think, but quickly shut himself down. Now was not the time for weakness. Greg, Ed, and Sam were jogging out to meet him, but he waved them back. "100 meters, boss!" he called. If some rabbit decided to hop across the wire now, he didn't want any injuries. The team fell back behind the nearest car, and Spike picked up his pace. Finally out of range, he let some of the tension of the last two hours out, and everything seemed to catch up with him all at once. Suddenly, his knees felt weak, and he was gasping for air.

When he got to the group, Greg was the first one in front of him, gently leading him over to the car. "Okay, Spike, that's it. Come on, let's sit down and you can just lean against the car here. Yeah, just like that." His voice was low and soothing. "Sam, can you run back and grab some water?" Sam took off towards the perimeter. "Alright, Spike, you're doing great. Do you think you can tell us what's going on out there?"

Spike nodded, slumped against the car. "Yeah, boss. Both exits are wired. Nobody can get in or out until at least one of the frag chains is disabled." He sucked in a breath. He was sweating profusely, and speaking so quietly it was hard to hear him.

"I'm not going to know much more for sure until I expose them. The good news is, these mines aren't anti-tank, so shields can provide some cover from the shrapnel, and any explosions won't punch through the walls of the building. Windows are still a danger zone, though, and anything less than a shield won't do anything. These things are designed to rip through sheet metal, stuff like the underside of cars."

"I'm pretty sure I can disarm the first mine and neutralize the hydrogen cyanide without too much of a problem," he continued. He was still leaning limply against the side of the car. "I'll use the foam spray for that. As long as the trip wire is broken, the foam will dissolve and neutralize the vial of gas, so even if the mine detonates, it won't be released."

Sam had come back with the water. "Why can't you just spray all three mines at the same time? Then you wouldn't have to worry about the HCN while you're disarming them."

Spike shook his head as he took a gulp of water. "The trip wire needs to be broken and the pin pulled. It will open up a valve at the top of the mine, where the HCN will be jettisoned upon detonation. If I've already disarmed the mine, I can just spray the vial to neutralize it."

He paused a moment. "The bad news is, if I don't isolate that mine properly, the second and third ones are going to blow. Using the liquid nitrogen, I can set a five second delay between the time the the valve opens and the detonation of the mine, but that's it."

Ed nodded. "With a shield and ten seconds, you can get of there in time to avoid any serious injury. That's good, Spike. We can deal with that."

Spike didn't speak for a long minute. Finally, quietly, he said, "No, Ed. I have to use those ten seconds to use the foam and neutralize the gas from the other two bombs. I can't stop the shrapnel, but I can contain the HCN. If it gets into the vents, those kids won't stand a chance, and even if they get out, everyone here is at risk."

Greg stared at him. "But Spike… if the mines detonate and you're in range, the shrapnel..."

Spike leaned back against the car, his eyes still closed. "I know, boss. But the kids will live."

Greg was horrified. "No, Spike, I can't let you do this. We'll find another way-"

"There is no other way, boss. And it won't happen if I can isolate the bombs." He finally opened his eyes. "Don't worry. I'm good at my job." He swallowed and tried to smile. "Everything's going to be fine."

Greg wanted to throw up.

* * *

><p>Tensions really start to ratchet up in the next two installments as Spike goes for the bombs...<p>

Review review!


	6. Chapter 6

Hey all! This chapter is kind of the lead-in to the next one- I hope it works well alone. I spent a lot of time trying to get the tone right, but we'll see. Again, I did some research for this chapter, but I'll go into more details below so I don't give anything away. Thanks for all the great reviews!

_Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?_

-Henry David Thoreau

* * *

><p>Spike was shaking as he pulled on the combat boots. All he could think about were those bombs, and <em>god<em>, he couldn't take another Lou. Greg was crouching in front of him, trying to talk him out of going out there, but Spike wasn't listening. He didn't have a choice. He thought of Lou again, and swallowed the bile rising up in his throat.

He looked up. Greg had stopped talking, but was still crouching there in front of him. Spike had never seen his boss look so helpless. He swallowed again, and finished tying his boots. Leaning back against the car, he tried to gather his thoughts. He had the drill tucked firmly into his belt, and the shield and the container of liquid nitrogen were lying next to him. What else did he need? _Oh,_ he thought. _The foam_. He tried to push himself off the ground, but faltered. Suddenly, Greg was there, grasping his arms gently and helping him up. Spike met his eyes and smiled weakly.

"Spike." Greg said softly, once he was steady on his feet. "If you're going to do this-" He closed his eyes for a moment. "If you're going to do this, we need a game plan." Spike vaguely noticed that the rest of the team had gathered around the pair of them. "Just give us something here, buddy. Anything." Greg pleaded.

He nodded, and tried to think. "The back doors." He started. "I'm going to start at the back doors." That sounded right. He nodded again. "If everything goes according to plan, I can have the mines there disabled in two hours." He was gaining confidence. _I can do this_, he thought. _I just need to focus_. He focused. "Once they're disarmed, have Reiden get everyone out. They should move in a straight line, directly west toward the road. I'll need to come back here then." He looked at Greg. "I can't be out there for more than two, two and a half hours at a time without seriously compromising my ability to work. I need to get them all diffused before it gets dark, but between each chain, I'll have to break for at least half an hour."

Greg nodded immediately. "Of course, Spike. That's good. We'll be right here for you the whole time. Do you need any protective gear beyond the shield?"

"No," he shook his head. "It'll only get in the way. Especially for the first chain- I still don't know the details of what I'm dealing with, so I'll need full range of motion and an unobstructed line of sight. After that, we'll see." He smiled crookedly.

Greg couldn't bring himself to smile back. He settled for a pat on the back. "Okay, but will you let us know if anything's wrong, Spike?" He was trying to be gentle, but was pretty sure his voice came out strangled instead. Spike didn't seem to notice. "It would make me feel a lot better."

"Yeah, sure, boss. But don't worry- whatever happens with the first chain of mines, I'll have neutralized the HCN. The kids will get out okay." Greg blanched, and Ed took over.

"Spike, that's really not what we need to hear right now. You're going to get out safely, okay? Just like you said, you're good at your job. It won't come to that. Now let's get you all geared up, buddy. Where's your shield?"

As Ed led Spike away, the rest of the team was silent. Greg's skin was ashen, and Jules looked like she was about to cry. Raf and Sam were trying to keep some semblance of normality, but their fists were clenched tightly at their sides.

Jules spoke first. "We can't let him do this. It's too dangerous, and you all know it. Just let the explosive containment unit deal with it. They're experts in this sort of thing."

Sam shook his head. "_Spike_ is an expert in this sort of thing, Jules. Do you know how much research he did on landmines after Lou? I doubt there's a person in the country better equipped to deal with this. We have to let him try."

"Sam's right, Jules. If anyone can do this, it's Spike. We just have to be there for him." Greg had recovered himself somewhat. "Let him know we've got his back."

Ed and Spike were heading back their way. Spike had the shield strapped to his back, and was carrying the container of liquid nitrogen in his left hand. There was a gas mask around his neck, and he wasn't wearing any gloves. "I'm all set to go, boss." He sounded subdued. "Whenever you're ready."

Ed mussed his hair. "You're going to do great, bud. Don't you worry about a thing." Jules stepped forward and hugged him hard, tears in her eyes. Sam and Raf slapped him on the back reassuringly.

Greg just looked at him. "I'll walk you in as far as I can." Spike nodded. They slowly made their way toward the school, neither feeling particularly compelled to break the silence. Finally, Spike turned to him and Greg knew they had entered the blast radius. He took Spike's face between his hands. "Spike," he said, and his voice broke. "Spike, _please._ Be careful out there. I need you to come out of this, okay? We still need to watch Ladies in Waiting together. How can you miss out on that?"

Spike smiled and laid one of hands over Greg's. "Don't worry, boss. I'll be okay." He turned and walked towards the mines.

As he went, he heard Greg whisper into his mic. "1:57 pm, Constable Scarlatti begins attempt to disable first mine."

* * *

><p>Spike, as he walked closer to the first frag chain, was calm. There were no longer any voices in his head, and the world had narrowed down to him and the path in front of him. He had circled around to approach from the west, and the flags he had set were twenty meters away, fifteen, ten. At five, he set down the nitrogen, unstrapped the shield from his back, and took a moment to take stock of the situation. The trip wire was running parallel to the doors, secured by a small stake in the ground about a meter south of the first mine in the chain. That would have to be cut first, he thought. But he couldn't do anything until he had cleared the ground around the mines.<p>

He approached slowly, hyperaware of where he was stepping. When he was just a couple feet away from the first mine, he stopped, kneeling down. He checked the earth around it; it was soft, obviously recently disturbed. _That's good_, Spike thought. _Makes it easier to work with_. He brought out his knife, and used it to help scoop out handfuls of dirt.

The process was excruciatingly slow. He couldn't risk touching any of the wires connected to the mines, so a square inch of dirt could take minutes to remove. After twenty minutes of digging, he leaned back on his heels and touched his earpiece.

"Boss?" He asked. The smell of almonds was overwhelming.

"Yeah, Spike. What's up, buddy?" Greg responded.

"I've uncovered the first one. I was right about the mines- definitely a frag chain embedded with vials of HCN. Each one is about a foot in diameter. I'll need to uncover the other two to be sure, but I think the visible trip wire sets off the first mine, which is connected to the second one by an underground wire. It's probably the same for the second and the third. I'm going to uncover the next two now- I'll let you know when I'm done." He waited for Greg's acknowledgement and turned off his earpiece.

Excavating the second and the third mines proved to be even harder than the first. The wires connecting the mines were extremely sensitive, so he couldn't come anywhere close to them. Instead, he dug around and under them, so the dirt could trickle down of its own accord. Sweat was running down his face, getting in his eyes. He used his sleeve to wipe it off, and kept digging. Finally, he checked his watch. 3:05.

He checked in with Greg. "Boss, I'm done."

"That's great, Spike. What's the next step?" Greg's voice sounded forced. He knew what was next.

Spike humored him. "I'm going to douse all three mines in liquid nitrogen, and try to isolate the first one from the second." He didn't have to mention the consequences if he didn't succeed. "I need complete radio silence for this one, boss. It's going to require my full attention, so there can't be a single noise. I'll be in touch." He switched to channel four and bent down over the first mine.

* * *

><p>Greg turned to the rest of the team. "Raf," he said, his voice flat. "Get over to the west side. When those kids come out, make sure they're heading the right direction. Stay outside the blast radius." He lifted his pair of binoculars to his eyes. Spike was bent over the ground, barely moving. Greg swallowed and turned around to the command truck. Stepping inside, he approached Jules. "Any luck on a suspect?" he asked.<p>

She jumped. "Actually, yeah, boss. A termite exterminator about 10 miles from here is missing some HCN. Said it disappeared about a week ago. I'm just heading over there now."

Greg nodded. "If you get a name, send it to Winnie. Have her run crosschecks on any known associates. Look for some connection to the military. I'm going back out to help-" He stopped. "To watch Spike. Let me know if you get anything." Once he was out of the truck, he found Ed. "Ed, Jules might have a name soon. When you get the address, be ready for possible aggressive entry; bring Sam with you. Do whatever you need to do, but I want this guy back here as soon as possible. Understand?"

"We'll get it done, Greg. Spike's going to be okay."

Greg watched Ed jog over to Sam. He hoped desperately that he was right.

* * *

><p>After Spike had poured the nitrogen over the mines, he knelt down next to the trip wire for the first bomb. This one would be the easiest- the wire was only connected to a mine on it's left side, so he didn't have to worry about keeping the pressure constant on both sides of the cut. He took out a pair of pliers and a wire cutter. With the pliers in his left hand, he reached down slowly and delicately closed them around the trip wire, making sure he didn't pull at all. When he was sure of his grip, he used the cutters to snip the wire just to the right of the pliers. Brushing the other side of the trip wire out of the way, he set down the wire cutters and, keeping the pliers completely motionless, pulled a roll of tape out of his vest. Ripping a piece off with his teeth, he wrapped it around the wire where it entered the mine. He very slowly released the pliers. The wire stayed attached to the mine.<p>

Spike sighed in relief. _One side down_, he thought_. Only two more wires to go_. He stood up briefly and rubbed chalk onto his hands from a pouch on his belt. He couldn't afford to slip now.

Approaching the other side of the mine, he tried to determine the best way to cut the second wire. He had to avoid an increase of pressure on either side of the cut, but he only had two hands to work with, and he needed two points of pressure plus a hand to cut the wire. Finally, he remembered something he had once read about in a field manual. He took out the roll of tape and his knife, and brought them to the center of the wire. Putting his eye to the ground, he tried to try to gage the wire's exact height in relation to the trench he had dug to uncover the mines.

Sitting back up, he dug an extremely shallow, narrow trench perpendicular to first. He slid his knife into it. The knife fit snugly, and sure enough, the blade rested millimeters from the bottom of the wire. He took it out again and wrapped a layer of tape around it. When he put it back into place, the blade and the wire were touching.

Spike let his head fall back and stared at the sky. He hadn't really expected it to work, but now he had a fighting chance to cut the wire without pulling either pin. Reaching down, he gently but firmly taped the wire to the blade, securing it. Kneeling on the knife to keep it from moving, he reached over and grabbed the pliers and wire cutters. Latching onto the side of the wire closest to the first mine, he repeated the cutting and taping process he had used for the first wire. It worked, and then worked again on the side of the wire closest to the second mine. Without pausing, he moved on to the next wire and repeated the process. He stood up shakily. He had isolated the three mines.

* * *

><p>Greg was pacing behind the first row of cars, forcing himself not to pick up the binoculars and check on Spike every few seconds. He had to trust that the younger man was doing everything he could out there. And, he thought queasily, even if he saw anything, it would be far too late to help. He looked down at his watch. Almost 3:40. Spike should have checked in by now. Greg leaned against the closest car, feeling like he was slowly going crazy.<p>

Almost on cue, Spike's voice came over the radio. "Guys." He said. Greg leapt up. "I did it. The mines are isolated." His voice was remote. "I'm moving the first one away from the others now so I can disarm it, but I don't think I'll have too much trouble with that. And now that I've got a handle on this, I think I can separate the other chains more quickly. This is good, guys."

Greg let out a shaky breath. "Yeah, Spike. This is really good. Do you need anything? Can we help?"

"No, boss. Be prepared to call Reiden and tell him to get those kids out, but other than that, I think I'm good here. I'm going to start disarming this bomb, so I'll go back to channel four."

"Wait, Spike. You did good out there, you hear? Just keep it up."

"I'll see you soon, boss."

* * *

><p>Spike slowly picked up the first mine, careful not to disturb the wires sticking out from either end. He moved about 10 feet away from the other mines, and slowly turned the bomb over in his hands, so that the top was facing the ground. Getting on his knees again, he set it down deliberately. The side facing him had four screws in it, one for each cardinal point on a compass. He pulled the drill out of his vest.<p>

After he had removed the screws, he pried the bottom cover off. There, nestled in among layers and layers of shrapnel, was a ring of a crystalline white solid. Spike raised his eyebrows. RDX was not a common explosive in mines.

He touched his earpiece. "Boss, he's modified the set-up of the bomb. He's using RDX instead of TNT, which changes the way the mine detonates. It'll cut the range the shrapnel by a third, but the blast radius is going to be much bigger- I'm guessing nine, ten meters- and the explosion will be much more powerful within that radius."

"Spike, what does that mean? Are they still safe to disarm?"

Spike nodded. "Yeah, boss. It doesn't change anything about the process- just the result." He didn't add that if he was in that radius and the mine detonated, a shield wasn't going to be much help. "I'll finish up here, and get back to you soon."

He used a pair of tweezers to extract the ring of explosives. It came out easily. Setting it aside, he returned to the mine. Without the RDX it was relatively harmless, except for the vial of HCN. He screwed the bottom back on and righted the shell. He found the foam spray on his vest. Grasping the trip wire, he yanked it from the mine. A valve immediately opened on the top of the bomb, and Spike was ready. He sprayed the entire area with the foam, and heard a slight sizzling at it neutralized the HCN. Five seconds later, he heard a click as the fuse set off the blast cap. Without the explosives, though, nothing happened.

Spike set the mine aside, and went to grab another. Within fifteen minutes, all three bombs were defused.

Spike sat down, and stayed very still for a minute. He noticed with vague surprise that his hands had begun to shake violently. He had really done it. The first frag chain was gone, neutralized, no longer a threat. He tried to stand up. His knees gave out immediately, and he slumped to the ground. He was about to try again, but decided against it. He settled on lifting a hand to his ear.

"Boss. Call Reiden and tell him it's safe to come out." He paused. "The bombs are defused."

* * *

><p>When 200 kids came rushing out of the school three minutes later, Spike was still sitting there. Shepherded out by the teachers, they were scared but unharmed. As they went past, they took the opportunity to stare at the fancy uniform sitting on the ground. He waved tiredly at them. They weren't any different from the kids he had played with at the restaurant in the morning, he reflected detachedly. Different circumstances, but essentially the same people. Having a bunch of bombs outside their building for most of the day hadn't changed a thing.<p>

He pushed himself off the ground again, and this time, his knees held. As he got up, he realized a man had broken off from the gaggle of children, and was approaching him. Spike motioned for him to stay away, and lurched in his direction, intent on meeting him halfway. There _was_ a pile of explosives sitting next to him, after all.

The man was talking. "Thank you so much- so, _so_ much. Everything you've done for this school, for these kids-" he broke off. "We'll never be able to repay you."

Spike felt dizzy. "Thank you, sir. Just doing my job." He looked up at the older man. "Are you Walter Reiden?" The man nodded. "Good job on spotting that wire. Without you, a lot of people would have died."

Reiden smiled. "Just doing my job, son. Now get back to your team- you look like crap."

Spike looked down. He did look like crap. He was covered in dirt and spots of chalk, and was pretty certain that his hair was plastered to his head courtesy of all the sweat. "Yes sir. Going now." He smiled at the man distractedly, and turned to go collect his equipment.

Strapping the shield to his back took far too much effort, Spike thought. He felt curiously removed from his body. _They should make them lighter_. He stuffed all his tools in his vest and, grabbing the nitrogen, turned to the RDX and picked it up gingerly. Holding it away from his body, he started making his way back to the perimeter and his team. 100 meters had never seemed so far.

* * *

><p>Spike eventually made it back to the perimeter. Greg started toward him, but Spike shook his head, motioning to the explosives. He continued to the containment truck and deposited the RDX. The danger was gone, but he didn't relax, didn't collapse, didn't look relieved at all. Spike just shut down. He turned around blankly, and instantly Greg was there, like he always was, leading him back to the car. Spike sat down slowly and closed his eyes. Greg was asking if he could do anything, bring him water, bring him food, but he shook his head. All he wanted was quiet.<p>

Greg didn't know how to react to Spike's apathy. He glanced at Sam. The other man shook his head. "Don't bother him, Sarge. I've seen this sort of thing in the war. Spike's dealing with the stress. He's focused completely on the job, and won't snap out of it until he's done or he collapses." He grimaced. "I'm personally rooting for the first one."

Greg looked over. "It won't affect his ability to work?" When Sam shook his head, he turned back to Spike. "Spike? You let me know if you need anything, okay? I'll be here." Spike didn't move at all.

Greg turned away, unnerved. He sat for a few minutes at the car's side, but was interrupted from his vigil by Jules' voice over the mic.

"Sarge, the exterminator gave me a name- Matt Arbor. They worked together for a few months, but he says Arbor just disappeared a week ago with an entire container of HCN. Arbor has a substantial rap sheet- assault, larceny, possession of illegal firearms- and he spent some time in prison for it. He got out about a year ago, and his parole officer swears that he completely turned around when he connected with one Daniel Cabe."

"Get this, boss: Cabe is our bomb connection. He served as a humanitarian deminer in what was Yugoslavia before he was sent home with a load of shrapnel to the stomach. He sued for damages and lost, and his appeal was just overturned a month ago. The girl you had in the truck identified him- these are definitely our guys, Sarge."

"That's great. Sam, Ed, get over to their houses immediately. Less-lethal unless absolutely necessary- I need anything they can give us. Jules, any connection to the school?"

"Working on it, Sarge. There's nothing in recent records, but I figure one of them might have gone here as a kid. Probably Cabe- the other one looks more like a follower than an initiator. Reiden's records say he's been working here for thirty years, so you should check if he remembers either of them. I'll get started on contacting some other teachers. I'll get back to you."

"Thanks. Raf, get over here with Reiden. I want to see if he taught this guy. I'm going to stay with Spike." The aforementioned was beginning to stir from his spot in the car. Greg jogged back over to his side.

"Hey, Spike, what's up? You need anything?"

Spike stood up and stared at him blankly. "How long have I been here?"

"In the car? About twenty minutes, maybe a little more. Why?"

"I'm going out to defuse the chain by the front door. I'll be back in a couple hours." He grabbed his shield and started to walk off. Greg grabbed him, shocked.

"What, just like that? Spike, you need more time. What about the half hour you talked about?"

"We're losing daylight, boss. I need to go now. I'll be back when I'm done to rest some more." He shrugged out of Greg's grip and strapped on the shield. "Where's the nitrogen?" He asked, looking around vacantly.

"What? Oh- I'll get it for you. Are you sure about this, Spike?" He grabbed the nitrogen from the trunk and handed it over. "We can spare a couple more minutes-"

"No, we really can't. I'm cutting it close as it is." He patted his vest to make sure he had everything. Then, without any more preamble, he ducked under the perimeter and began to make his way to the front doors.

Greg almost went after him. But even as he considered it, he knew Spike was right. They were racing against time, and every second counted.

It didn't make it any easier to watch him go.

* * *

><p>Five minutes later, Raf returned with Reiden. Greg met them at the truck. "Walter?" he asked. "It's good to put a face to the name. You did great in there. Saved a lot of lives today."<p>

Walter smiled. "That's almost exactly what your bomb tech told me. How's he doing? He looked a little shaken when I saw him."

Greg couldn't help but glance in the direction of the school. "He'll be alright. He's working on defusing the rest of the mines now. I, uh- he'll be alright." He finished lamely.

Walter just looked knowingly at him. "He will be. I can tell- I saw a lot of soldiers in my day, and you can always spot the survivors. That young man is something special."

"Yeah. He sure is." Greg said slowly. Shaking his head, he got back to the issue at hand. "I'm sorry to push so soon after your ordeal, Walter, but I was wondering if you could help us out one last time. I understand you've been here for a long time?"

"Over thirty years. Teaching is my passion. I consider it a blessing to work with young people."

Greg smiled. "I understand. Do you remember a student named Daniel Cabe? He would have been here between fifteen and twenty years ago, give or take a few years."

Walter nodded immediately. "Yeah, I remember Danny. He's hard to forget- smart as a whip, but one of the coldest kids I ever taught. Didn't have any parents that I saw- always walked everywhere, wore hand-me-down clothes, the whole nine yards. He told me once that what he wanted most was to get away from here and travel around the world."

"Naturally, he was a target for the playground bullies. They loved to harass him, and when he was in the fourth grade, I guess he got fed up. He built a smoke bomb and locked the kids who had hurt him in a room with it. We got them out an hour later. One of them was unconscious. He was expelled the same day, and I never saw him again."

Greg raised his eyebrows and turned away. "Okay, guys, possible psychopathic tendencies here," he said into the comm. "Ed, Sam, be careful."

Ed answered immediately. "Copy. Just preparing for entry now."

There was a loud bang as they kicked the door in. Greg waited for a tense minute as shouts of "SRU!" and "Police!" drifted over the radio. Finally, Ed came back over the line. "No one here, boss. The place has been stripped- it's completely empty except for the furniture."

Greg exhaled forcefully. "Try Arbor's house next." He turned back to Walter. "Walter, do you know why Daniel would travel on a humanitarian mission to Eastern Europe? It seems a little out of character."

"Well, he told me wanted to get away," Walter said. "Maybe that was just his way of doing it. He wasn't entirely a bad kid, you know?"

"I know. I don't think any kid is." Greg smiled. "Thank you so much for your help here today, Walter. We'll be in touch if we need anything else."

* * *

><p>Spike was operating completely on autopilot. His saw his hands moving, making a trench under the wires, but they seemed to belong to someone else. They stopped; it took him a minute to realize that the mines were uncovered, and there was nothing left to dig. He fumbled for the pliers and the wire cutters. <em>Snip<em>. The first wire was gone. He moved to the second one. Dig a slot for the knife. Align it with the wire. Tape the wire to the knife, and _snip_, the second wire was gone. He moved on the third one. _Snip_.

The next thing he knew, he was removing the explosives from the final mine. There was a pile of RDX on one side of him, and three foam covered shells on the other. He checked his watch, and noted that he had been working for an hour and fifty minutes. He wondered dispassionately where the time had gone. It didn't matter.

He picked up the RDX and walked back to the perimeter. He didn't see Greg as he dumped the explosives into the containment truck, and realized belatedly that he hadn't radioed in his progress. He didn't bother to do it now. He walked back to the SUV alone, opened the door, and stared at the seat in front of him. _I should rest_, he thought. _I need time to recover_. He stared some more at the seat in front of him, and closed the door. He hadn't even unstrapped the shield from his back as he headed out to the third chain.

* * *

><p>As I was saying at the top of the page, I did spend some time on the mechanics of this chapter. The knife trick is a real thing, as is Spike's reaction to the pressure and the info about the RDX. I hope everything stayed realistic! Don't forget to tune in next chapter... a lot of stuff happens. I won't go into any details, but... yeah. I'll have it up soon.<p>

Review review!


	7. Chapter 7

Author's note at the bottom (no spoilers!) As always, thanks so much for all the reviews! You guys are the greatest.

_Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?_

-Henry David Thoreau

* * *

><p>Greg was furious. Arbor had stripped and ditched his house too, and both his and Cabe's cars were in their respective driveways. Ed and Sam were back in the truck with him, debating their next move. But it was futile. The team had no way of locating them until they made another move.<p>

Storming out of the truck, he kicked the nearest tire violently. It did nothing to calm him down. Resting his forehead against the cool metal, Greg started taking deep breaths. He needed to get himself under control before Spike came back with the second round of explosives. Once he had slowed his heart rate a little, he glanced at his watch and frowned. Spike should have been back more than half an hour ago.

He switched his earpiece to channel four. "Spike," he said softly, trying not to startle him. "Spike, I need an update on your progress. Are you okay?"

There was no answer, not even the crackle of static. It took Greg about three seconds to realize that Spike wasn't on the other end.

Suddenly, he was sprinting towards the perimeter, calling the team frantically. When he reached the car, he yanked his binoculars out of his vest and fumbled with them as he focused on the main doors. Spike wasn't there.

Greg's heart dropped out of his chest as he thought, for one sickening moment, that the mines had blown and taken Spike with them. His hands shook as he brought the binoculars to his face again. But no; there was no debris, no spread of shrapnel, no pockmark in the ground where Spike should have been. His heart started beating again.

The rest of the team was rushing toward him. He checked the passenger side of the car as Ed reached him, but no Spike. "Greg, what's wrong? Is Spike okay?" Ed was talking. Greg looked at him and shook his head.

"He's not there, Ed. He's not with the mines."

Sam pulled another pair of binoculars. As he swept the grounds, he started. "There! I see him- he's right past the playground." He stopped. "He's… he's at the third frag chain."

Ed swore violently. Greg closed his eyes, his hands on his head. Sam just stared. "He can't do this," he said. "He's too tired- he's gonna blow the mine. Jesus, what was he thinking?" He tried to hail him on the radio, to no avail.

"He's turned it off." Greg said. "He doesn't want to talk to us. Until he comes back, there's nothing we can do."

* * *

><p>It took Spike over an hour to start shaking. He didn't even realize it at first, but when he almost blew himself to pieces trying to cut the first wire, he stopped. For a minute, he tried to figure out what was wrong, and then all at once, the last few hours came rushing back to him, a wall of sensations hitting him hard. He remembered Greg trying to help him at the car, he remembered cutting the wires and dismantling the second chain, he remembered disposing of the RDX and coming back out with no rest. He reeled back, unwittingly dropping the wire cutters and the pliers.<p>

Gasping, he dragged himself away from the mines and lay down on the dirt, weakly gazing at the sky above him. _So stupid_, he thought. _I needed that rest_. He looked back at the line of cars. He could make out a few figures standing behind them, some pacing, some unmoving. _That would be the team_. He started to get up and head back, but then looked between them and the mines. He looked again. _If I can just disable the rest now, we can go home. _

He shook his head. Not a good idea. He should go back. But the notion had taken root, and it wormed insidiously through his mind. _The team has been here for hours_, it seemed to say. _They're waiting for you, and you're taking too long. Just get it over with, and they can leave._ He couldn't. His hands were shaking. But as he looked down, he realized they had stilled. _No excuses_. _The bombs are waiting_.

He looked back at the mines. They seemed so harmless, sitting there in a row with nothing but a fragile little wire connecting them. He looked back at his hands. Perfectly steady. He crawled back towards the chain.

_I can do this_, he thought. _This is my job_. He gathered up the wire cutters and the pliers. _Just a few more minutes, then we can leave. I can work for a few more minutes_. He positioned the knife in the ground, and put his knee over it. _Grab the wire with the pliers. Take the wire cutters and cut_. _Tape the side_. Half of the wire fell harmlessly to the ground. _See?_ He thought. _Easy-peasy_. He grasped the other side with the pliers and cut it. _Nothing to it_. He moved to the last wire. Put the knife in the ground. Taped it to the wire. Cut one side. Moved to the final side.

He grasped the wire with the pliers, and leaned down to cut it. But as the wire cutters touched his last barrier to safety, his body rebelled, overcome with exhaustion. His entire torso twitched, and Spike watched in slow motion as the tremor traveled down his arm and to the wire cutters in his hand. And, instead of cutting, he pulled.

There was a crack as the pin popped out of the detonator, and Spike automatically reached for the foam spray. He had five seconds. _Well_, he thought, _at least I'll go down doing my job_.

But as he got ready to cover the mine with foam, he realized the valve hadn't opened. He blinked. The valve should have opened. He sat there for a few more seconds. The valve should have opened, and the bomb should have detonated by now. He leaned over to the side of the mine. Spike blinked again.

The pin had popped most of the way out of the detonator, but was still hanging on by a millimeter. The pressure must have been _just_ short of the force needed to fully disengage it. Spike stared for almost a minute, uncomprehending. He should be dead. By all rights, he should be dead. He backed away from the mine slowly.

He sat in shock, taking in the situation. He couldn't touch the third mine at all, or the pin would come out. That meant no removing the explosives. But he could at least deal with the other two while he was here. He brought them out of range, and slowly extracted the RDX and sprayed the shells with foam. He looked back at the third mine. It sat there innocently. There was no way to neutralize the gas without blowing it to kingdom come. _I'm still going to die_, he thought. _All that and I'm still going to die_.

And suddenly, he was completely resigned. _At least I'll get to see Lou again. Might as well get it over with_. He crawled back over to the mine and reached down to pull the pin.

He stopped at the last second. _Unless_, he thought, considering it. _I still can't get out of the blast range, but five seconds might just be enough time… _It was a long shot, but it was the only shot he had. He got up, collected the RDX, and started back towards his team.

* * *

><p>As Greg watched Spike bending over the mines, all he could think about was Lou, and how he couldn't watch that happen again. He felt nauseous, but forced himself to keep his binoculars up. Ed was standing beside him, stony-faced, and he could hear Sam pacing violently in the background. Jules had a death grip on Raf's arm, who was murmuring soothingly to her. He couldn't keep the worry off his face, though.<p>

All of a sudden, Spike moved. Greg called out to the rest of the team, and pressed the binoculars closer to his eyes. Spike had dragged himself away from the mines and collapsed. "What's going on?" Greg asked. "Is he hurt? Why isn't he moving?"

Sam spoke. "He's in overdrive. Everything that happened today probably caught up to him all at once, and he can't deal with it. The good news is, now that he's aware, he's going to be able to realize that he's overtaxed. He should be heading back to us any minute."

Greg held up the binoculars again. "Okay, that's good." Spike was still lying motionless on the ground. "Let's get some water and food ready for him. He'll probably-"

Spike was moving back toward the bombs. "Sam, what's he doing? Shouldn't he be heading our way?"

Sam looked through his own pair of binoculars. "He should be. I don't know what he's thinking- he should know by now that he can't handle this, not in his state. Spike!" He yelled through the radio. "Spike, talk to me!" No response.

He cursed loudly. Greg had the binoculars pressed so hard against his face that they were leaving marks. "We've got to get him out of there. I can go in-"

Ed stopped him. "No, you can't, Greg. Spike's made his decision, and all we can do is let it play out. There's no reason for two people to die here. And who knows, maybe Spike will dismantle the bombs."

Greg whirled on him. "There's no room for maybe's, Ed! This is our team we're talking about, and I will _not_ stand by while someone else dies! I'm going-"

Sam cut them off. "Guys, Spike's standing up." There was a hint of awe in his voice. "I think he's disabled the mines."

Sure enough, Spike had begun walking toward them, holding out the explosives in his hands.

* * *

><p>When Spike reached the perimeter, the team was swarming around him. He shook his head, continuing on to the containment truck. After he deposited the explosives, he turned around. They were talking to him, patting him on the back, crowding him, but he held up his hands. When he realized how violently they were shaking, he put them back down. "Guys, hold on a minute. Hold on- hold on, Jules. I'm not done." He took a breath. "I need a bomb suit."<p>

No one spoke. Finally, it was Ed who broke the silence. "_What_?" he asked dangerously.

"No, no, it's fine- the last mine's wired incorrectly, that's all." Spike lied. "When I spray the HCN, there's a chance that some of the shrapnel escapes. The suit's just an extra precaution- it's procedure."

Greg looked at him suspiciously. "Are you sure, Spike? That's all it is?"

Spike swallowed. He hated lying to his boss. "Yeah, that's it, Sarge. I'm fine." But he wasn't. His knees were shaky, and he felt like he was going to collapse. He forced himself to stay upright through sheer force of will- he couldn't afford to let the others see him falter.

Before he knew it, Greg was at his side. "Alright, Spike, we'll get you a suit. Winnie, could you get on that, please? In the meantime, let's head back to the car and you can rest some while they get it out here. Deal?"

Spike tried to smile. "Deal." In reality, he didn't think he could stand much longer.

"You should have taken some time before you went back out there, Spike." Greg admonished as they made their way to the car. "It was a reckless decision, and it could have had some really bad consequences." He looked at him sternly. "When this is over, you and me are going to have a talk about endangering yourself."

Spike wanted to laugh. The boss would strangle him for what he was about to do. "Yeah, it was stupid in hindsight, but I got it done." _Almost_, he added mentally.

They had reached the car. Greg lowered him into the seat, and then jogged around to get in the driver's side. When he opened the door, Spike interjected. "Actually, boss, I'd like some time alone, if you don't mind. Long day and all that." He tried to smile again. Greg looked concerned, but acquiesced.

"Okay, buddy, but you make sure to let me know if you need anything. I'll be right out here."

"Thanks, boss. Just let me know when the bomb suit gets here." He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair.

* * *

><p>The suit got there forty minutes later. As the technician that had come with it handed it to Greg, he frowned. "What do you have out there? The suit can't protect someone from a direct explosion, you know. It'll just rip right through it."<p>

Greg just grabbed the suit. "Thank you," he said shortly. "We'll take it from here." He turned around and started hauling the suit back to his car. It was heavy. "Spike," he called. "Time to gear up!" The sun was uncomfortably close to the horizon now, and Greg was worried there wouldn't be enough time to defuse the bomb.

Spike stepped out of the car. He was pale as a ghost, and sweat had plastered his shirt to his body. He was shaking as he took the suit from Greg and started pulling it on.

"Whoa, Spike. You okay there, buddy? Is something wrong?" Spike wouldn't meet his eyes. "Are you going to have trouble defusing this? I don't want anything going wrong."

Spike looked up. "Defusing it won't be an issue, boss." He said wryly, like he was in on a private joke. "I need some help with the helmet. Do you mind?" Greg helped him pull on the helmet. Between that and the oversized suit, the only things left that looked vaguely human were Spike's eyes, peeking out through the thick visor.

Spike was talking through the radio. "Can you hear me, boss? Is the mic working?"

Greg nodded. "All good here. You ready to go, Spike? Let's get you to the perimeter."

As they walked closer, Ed jogged up to meet them. He was carrying Spike's shield, and a bag with everything he needed to diffuse the bomb. "Here you go, buddy. Wire cutters, pliers, knife, tape, foam- they're all in there. Do you need anything else?" They had reached the perimeter.

Spike shook his head. He took the shield and bag and turned to the team. "Whatever happens out there-" his voice sounded eerily flat through the helmet. "Whatever happens, don't approach within 100 meters. You have to promise me that."

"Spike, is there something we should know about?" Ed asked.

"Promise me." He repeated.

Greg laid his hand on his shoulder and peered through the visor of the suit. "Say you won't do something stupid, and we'll promise. Okay?"

"I won't do something stupid." He parroted. "I'm going now. Stay back." Sam lifted the perimeter for him, and he walked away.

* * *

><p>It took Spike both an instant and a lifetime for him to cross the distance from the perimeter to the bomb. He set down his shield within arms reach and pulled out the foam. He tossed the rest of the bag away.<p>

Spike knelt there, preparing himself, for a long time. He fumbled for the radio.

"Guys?" he asked, his voice shaking. This was the hardest part. "Are you there?"

A chorus of voices came back to him. He closed his eyes, willing himself not to cry. "I'm going to detonate the mine." He said.

There was silence for a split second. Then came the rush of sound as he heard them yelling, asking what was he thinking, and to get back there now. Jules was crying. He pushed on.

"I'm going to have five seconds from when I trip the wire to when the bomb goes off. It'll take two to neutralize the HCN. I'm going to try to get to the shield in the next three. If I get it up in time, I might make it." But the more he thought about it, the more he realized how impossible that was. Even with the shield, he was still in the middle of the blast radius. He wouldn't stand a chance.

"I love you guys." He reached for the trip wire and swallowed. "It's gonna be okay."

* * *

><p>Everything happened in slow motion. Spike barely had to touch the wire for the pin to release. <em>Five<em>. The valve opened and Spike was spraying, spraying- _Four_- and it felt like he was spraying forever, but he was almost done- _Three_- and he dropped the canister and lunged for his shield- _Two_- but he fumbled and couldn't get a grip on it, the suit heavy and unfamiliar in his hands- _One_- and he couldn't bring it up fast enough, and the mine had shot up into the air, preparing for detonation, and-

The explosion lifted him off his feet and threw him like a rag doll, his body twisting as the shrapnel whistled by him. His shield was ripped from his hands as a wave of heat engulfed him, and he could feel sharp bursts of pain as bits of nail and glass tore through the suit like so much butter. He thought dimly that if this is what it felt like to die, at least he only had to go through it once._ Lou, I'm coming_, he called, before his head slammed into the ground and he knew no more.

* * *

><p>When the mine detonated, Greg was yelling desperately, only vaguely aware of someone holding him back as he tried to push past the perimeter. He watched as the explosion threw Spike into the air, his body going one way and his shield another. Then, as the shrapnel caught up to him, the outline of the suit was the only thing visible as he sailed one meter, two meters, three meters before he hit the ground hard, shrapnel still flying around him. He bounced violently, and then bounced again before sliding another three meters and tumbling to a sickening stop. Tongues of flame licked gently around his limp form.<p>

Greg was shouting his name over and over again, because it was _Spike_, and he couldn't die, couldn't just leave him like this, because what was he supposed to do now?

Everyone was tearing their earpieces out, and Ed was still clinging to him, talking to him, telling him that Spike was gone, Greg, he was gone, he was dead, _please,_ Greg. He slowly stopped struggling, but couldn't take his eyes off the body until Ed turned him around, leaning him against the car, and Greg distantly noted that the team leader was crying. He slumped to the ground, taking his friend with him. He was in too much shock to speak, to cry, and just sat there, mumbling Spike's name, waiting for something to happen, except of course it didn't and it never would. Spike was dead.

Jules was on her knees as Sam held her, rocking her back and forth just as Greg had done for Spike two years ago. Raf was leaning against the command truck, his eyes closed and his shoulders shaking. Greg didn't even think to go to any of them, to comfort them, because Spike was gone and what was he supposed to say?

He didn't know how long they sat there, but figured it had to be a while, because it was getting dark, and the uniforms had started inching cautiously closer and Ed was getting up and biting their heads off and they certainly hadn't been that close before. There was an annoying buzzing in his ear. He swatted blindly at it, but it was insistent, and god what was it because it was driving him crazy. He guessed he didn't have far to go, because he couldn't think and couldn't process anything and he was hearing Spike's voice in his head, telling him it's gonna be okay, and guys, come on, please, and he didn't want to hear _voices_ anymore so just stop, and-

Greg stumbled to his feet disbelievingly. Then he was running, hundred meters be damned, and Ed was yelling after him, but he didn't stop. Spike was lying there, twisted in upon himself, unmoving. The suit was still smoldering in places. Greg was coming up fast, and tore his earpiece out as he fell to his knees next to the body. He dimly registered the shrapnel cutting into his legs, but ignored it as he gently turned Spike over and lifted him into his lap. He didn't react, and Greg couldn't see through the blackened visor.

Greg briefly wondered if he had imagined it, if he would only find a charred body under the suit, but he pushed the thought aside ruthlessly. He fumbled for the clasps on the helmet, and slowly, carefully, lifted it off Spike's head. A pair of brown eyes stared back at him.

Greg remained very still for a long moment, and then bent over him, trembling. "Spike… god, Spike, you're alive, thank you, thank you, _thank_ you-" his hands flitted across Spike's face, touching everything, reassuring himself that yes, he was there, he was _alive. _

Spike was coughing weakly. "Boss… boss, please-" Greg's eyes immediately swept over the suit, but didn't find any major injuries. Suddenly, images of Spike bouncing across the ground flashed through his head. _Jesus_, he thought, _he's broken his back. _

"Hold on, Spike, I'll get EMS to bring a stretcher, we'll get you out of here and to a hospital as fast as we can. Don't worry, you'll be okay-"

Spike was shaking his head. "No, boss, no, I don't need a stretcher. I don't think I'm hurt." He grimaced. "Or at least, injured. I hurt everywhere. I think I've been out for a while. Word of advice, boss: never stand too close to a bomb that's about to detonate." He started to laugh a litte hysterically, but it turned into a groan. "Okay, no jokes. Can you help me up, boss? I think I can walk back, but I might have to lean on you a little bit."

Greg just sat and stared. It was all too much.

Spike continued to ramble. "Honest, boss, I can make it back. I really can. I think I'm just a little bruised up. Maybe some cuts, too," he said, surveying his body. "Actually, though, the suit did more than I thought it had, although I suppose it's hard to judge those things when you're flying through-" He caught Greg's expression and stopped.

"Boss?" No response. "Boss, come on, talk to me. It's fine, nothing's the matter, just talk to me." Greg still didn't move. Spike reached up a hand and grasped his boss' sleeve. "I'm okay, Greg, I'm okay. I'm not dead. Really."

Greg hazily reflected that that was the first time he had heard Spike use his name. It gave him strength, somehow, and he nodded. Spike smiled up at him.

"Everything's going to be okay, boss."

And Greg, for the first time in a long time, believed it.

* * *

><p>As they reached the perimeter, Spike just smiled tiredly at his shell-shocked team, and continued to lean on Greg's shoulder as they made their way to the ambulance. Then Sam, Jules, and Raf were all crowding around him, pelting him with questions, but Greg fielded most of them, saying that Spike was not really up to talk, guys, and why don't we give him some room. Ed hung back and watched quietly.<p>

Spike stubbornly refused to get in the ambulance, saying that if they needed to fix him up, they could do it right there, thank you very much. And as the EMTs bandaged his legs and wrapped his bruised ribs in gauze, one of them came over to speak with Greg.

"I can't believe it," he was saying. "He barely has a scratch on him. He did hit his head pretty hard, and he's going to have a nasty bump for a while, but no concussion. And that's really it, other than a few cuts and burns. I've never even heard of something like this- he should be dead. It's a one in a million chance. He must have someone up there looking out for him."

Greg thought of Lou and nodded. "Yeah, I think he does." Spike was standing up, shooing off EMTs like flies. "Are you almost done here?"

The other man nodded. "Just be careful- he's exhausted, and it will hit him hard pretty soon. Don't worry about it, he'll be fine with some rest. If anything serious happens, let me know." He handed Greg his card.

Greg nodded, and turned his attention to Spike, who was walking over to him quietly. He joined him as they made their way to the team.

Jules was there immediately, hugging Spike as hard as she could. He winced for a second as she squeezed his bruised ribs, and then held her close and buried his head in her hair. "It's okay," he was whispering, "it's okay, I'm here now, don't worry, it's okay-"

Jules wouldn't let go even as the others gathered round and slapped him on the back and ruffled his hair. He smiled at them reassuringly. As he disentangled himself from Jules, he looked to Ed. The team leader was glaring at him. Spike's smile faltered.

Ed growled. "If you ever do something like that again, Scarlatti, I'll have your head on a plate. I'm serious- that was completely out of line. You can't just walk out there and do something like that without having talked to us first."

"You wouldn't have let me do it," said Spike quietly. "You wouldn't have let me go, because you would have been scared, and I understand that. I really do. But I did what I had to, and I can't regret that. I'm sorry."

Ed looked at him for a minute, and then couldn't help but sigh. "You're right, Spike. But I don't ever want to feel like I did when that bomb went off." His voice was low. "I don't know if I could take it."

Spike nodded solemnly. There was a pause, and then he looked to Greg. "I don't feel so good, boss." He swayed on his feet. "I think I should probably sit-"

Greg barely caught him as his knees buckled. "Whoa- alright, Spike, that's it, why don't we get you to the car, okay, buddy?" He looked around at the team. "We'll debrief tomorrow. Everybody go home and get some sleep- I'll take care of Spike. Go on, we'll catch up tomorrow." The team drifted apart slowly, shooting glances back at Spike as Greg got him back on his feet. It was as if they found it hard to believe he was actually there. Greg understood perfectly.

He turned to Spike. "Any better?" Spike nodded.

"I'm okay, boss. Just think I should get home soon."

Greg positioned Spike so he was shouldering most of the younger man's weight. He looked at him as they neared the car. "I'm so proud of you, Spike." He said, his voice thick with emotion. "Today, you did something no one else could have done. You're a credit to the force."

Spike was overwhelmed. Before he knew it, his knees gave out again, and Greg used the opportunity to lower him onto the ground, settling him against the car.

"How are you, buddy?" he asked.

"I'm good. The suit caught most of the shrapnel-"

"I didn't mean physically. How _are_ you?"

Spike looked away. "I'm fine." He stopped. That wasn't right.

"No, boss, I'm not fine. I was scared." And as he said it, he realized how true it was, and the words just started pouring out. "I was scared, because I knew I was going to die, and that I was going to let you down, and most of all, I was scared that I wasn't going get those kids out in time, and-" Out of nowhere, he was crying. "And boss, it would have been my fault, just like Lou was my fault, and I couldn't take that, boss, I couldn't live with that-"

Greg cut him off sharply, his hands on his shoulders. "Spike, look at me. I _said_, look at me." He roughly turned Spike's head toward him. "Don't ever say that to me again_. Ever_." He was suddenly angry. "Spike, you have saved _so_ many lives, and I think you'll never quite realize the number of people you've touched. Those kids? Their families will never forget you. They'll think of you, on their son's, their daughter's birthday, and they'll remember what you did for them, and they will _never_ forget. Do you remember what Lou's parents said to you at his funeral? In front of everyone- in front of his coffin? They said thank you. They said thank you, Spike. They knew what you did for him, right up until the very end, and they thanked you for it at his _funeral_. If that doesn't tell you something, Spike- god, if that doesn't tell you something, then I don't know what will. You don't even-" And he found he had tears in his eyes too. "You don't even know what you do for people, Spike. What you do _to_ people. I can't imagine where I'd be if it wasn't for you, and _god_, Spike, what this team would be without you. We wouldn't exist."

He slumped against the car, exhausted. "Never forget that." He was shaking as he put an arm around the younger man. "Never ever forget that, Spike."

There was a moment in which neither of them moved, and then Spike was turning and burying his head in Greg's shoulder. He grasped at his vest and held onto him like he had that day, on the hot pavement, just meters away from his friend's body, and he cried. And as Greg tugged him closer, he couldn't help but cry too.

* * *

><p>So this was a <em>really<em> emotional one for me. I wrote it at like 3 in the morning after watching One Wrong Move again, and I was blubbering like a baby through the entire creative process. It may not be as fact-based as all the previous ones, but I did do some research, and people _have_ walked away from those types of explosions before. Also, I absolutely couldn't kill Spike. That's just...ugh. Keep in mind, the story's not over yet! Plenty more drama to come... but I'm going to let Spike recover a little first. It's only fair. Thanks again for all the feedback!

Review review!


	8. Chapter 8

So after all the drama last chapter, I thought I'd go for something a little quieter here. I'm not sure how well the transition worked, so please please please review. I need all the help I can get. Thanks for all the feedback!

_Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?_

-Henry David Thoreau

* * *

><p>Greg eventually pulled himself together enough to help Spike into the passenger side of the car. As he walked around to the driver's seat, though, he took a minute to himself. Leaning back against the door, he turned his gaze upward and sent up a silent prayer.<p>

For those terrible minutes after the explosion, he had been done. Done with everything- the job, the team, everything. He was done letting people down. He was done getting the people he loved killed. He never wanted to see another bomb, another gun, another damn police badge in his life. He would send Dean away and he would leave and he would never come back.

But Spike wasn't gone. Against all odds, against every rule in the book of life, Spike was sitting in the passenger seat of the car with nothing more than a couple of cuts and bruises. And that was proof enough for Greg that it wasn't the end, and life was going to keep on being okay.

He turned around and opened the door, slowly getting into the driver's seat. He looked at Spike. The tech was already drifting off, his eyes fluttering shut. Before he went completely under, though, he turned to Greg and smiled. Greg smiled back. Everything really was going to be fine.

* * *

><p>The first stop was Spike's apartment. As the car rolled up in front of it, Spike jerked awake. He looked blearily around, and then turned to Greg. "I don't have my key." He mumbled. "I left it in my locker at the SRU."<p>

Greg patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Spike, I'll take care of it. You just wait right here until I come back, okay?" He jogged into the complex. Once he found the building supervisor, the man took one look at the uniform and the stony expression on Greg's face and handed over his key. Greg just turned and started up the stairs to Spike's apartment.

Opening the door, he found the bedroom and started rummaging through drawers, pulling out any clothes he thought Spike might need and stuffing them into a duffel bag. He made a stop by the bathroom on the way out, grabbing a toothbrush and bottle of shampoo. Then, he was making his way back down the steps and dropping the key off with the intimidated supervisor before he headed back out to the car. Spike was fast asleep again.

By the time Greg got them to his apartment, he was ready to fall asleep too. But when he opened the passenger door, he sighed. Spike's head was thrown back into the space between the seat and the door, and he looked completely dead to the world. Greg reached over and shook him. Nothing. He shook a little harder this time, and Spike opened his eyes. "Was' goin on?" He slurred. "Where are we?"

Greg just started to maneuver him out of the car. It was a slow job. "Spike, we're going to- no, Spike, don't fall asleep again, here, just step out of the car like that- we're going to head up some stairs now, and then you can get in bed. Can you do that?"

Spike smiled dreamily. "Bed. Bed is good."

Greg nodded. "Yes, bed is good, Spike. Bed is very good. Now let's head over to that door over there- Spike! Awake, now! Good, just like that… one foot in front of the other, you're doing great, we're almost there, Spike…"

Getting up the stairs was torture. Greg practically had to carry Spike up the last flight, and by the time he reached the top, his legs were trembling. He dragged the younger man over to the door and propped him against the wall as he fumbled for his key. When he opened the door, he shook Spike awake again.

"We're at the door, I just need you to try and make it to the bedroom. Then you can sleep as long as you want, I promise." Nothing. He spoke again, this time a little more sharply, as he leaned down and hauled Spike to his feet. "Spike, I need you to help me."

Spike's eyes opened. "Help? Okay, boss, I can help. Where's the bomb?" He peered down the hallway. "I don't see a bomb."

Greg stared, and then closed his eyes for a long moment. "No bomb, Spike." He said quietly. "There's no bomb this time. Let's…" He swallowed. "Let's just get you inside, okay? Then we can worry about everything else." Spike nodded distractedly, and Greg slowly led him through the apartment to the guest bedroom. Spike was still scanning around for perceived threats.

Greg pretended not to see it. "Alright," he continued. "Pads off. Now the shirt." Spike fumbled with the buttons, and Greg welcomed that slightest return to normalcy. "Here, let me help you with those, buddy." Greg helped push off the shirt, leaving just the standard black t-shirt and the uniform pants. He made Spike take off his boots, and then decided to leave well enough alone. "Good. Now, let's just lean back on the bed like that, and we're done. There, now you can go back to sleep, bud. I'll wake you up in the morning."

Spike looked up at him concernedly. "Are you sure you don't need help defusing the bomb? I'm good at that sort of thing, you know."

Greg just leaned down and pulled up the covers. "I know, Spike. Trust me, I know. Now go to sleep." He switched off the light, and when he turned back, Spike was unconscious again. Greg gazed down at him, and then pulled a chair up to the bedside. No matter how tired he was, he wasn't getting any sleep tonight.

* * *

><p>Spike woke up the next morning in an unfamiliar room, still in his clothes, with absolutely no idea how he got there. He sat up, and groaned. His head hurt. Why did his head hurt? He tried to think back. He remembered joking around with the team in the locker room, he remembered riding with Greg, and then- <em>Oh<em>. _The landmine_. It all came rushing back.

He took a minute to clear his head, and then pulled himself out of bed. He unsteadily made his way out of the bedroom and looked around curiously. He didn't recognize anything. He stood there a minute, trying to place where he could be, when suddenly, a voice rang out behind him.

"Spike?" He whirled around, only to find his boss standing there, newspaper in hand. "I just went out to get…" Greg waved the newspaper awkwardly. "I was about to, uh…" He cleared his throat. "Never mind. Here, I've got breakfast going. Come on into the kitchen with me, buddy." He guided Spike into the next room, where a plate of bacon was on the table. A carton of eggs was perched precariously next to the stove, where a frying pan was gently sizzling.

Spike just stood there blankly. "What am I doing here?" It was the best he could come up with. His mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

Greg looked at him as he cracked some eggs into the pan. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Spike thought for a minute. "I- we…" he fumbled. "At the car." He finally settled on. "You talked to me about Lou." He was too tired to be embarrassed.

Greg took pity on him. "I dropped by your apartment to pick up some clothes, and then brought you here. You were pretty out of it." He got some plates out of the cupboard. "By the way, you might want to change- we had a long day yesterday. Bathroom's down the hall, towels under the sink. Your clothes are in a bag in the guest room." At Spike's puzzled look, he clarified. "Where you slept. By the time you get all cleaned up, I'll be done here."

Spike just stood there for a minute, not quite understanding what was going on. Greg tried to shoo him out of the kitchen. "Shower, then clothes. Come back here when you're done. You got that?"

Spike nodded slowly. He still didn't move. Greg sighed, and then came over and physically turned him around to face the door. "That way, Spike." He said, pushing him gently. Spike looked back at him, dazed, but eventually made it out the door and wandered off down the hall. Greg heard the shower turn on a few minutes later.

He had just finished dishing out the scrambled eggs onto two plates when Spike came stumbling back into the room. His hair was plastered to his head from the shower, and he looked a little less pale than he had been before. Greg ushered him into a seat and put a plate in front of him. Spike kept looking between him and the eggs.

Greg rolled his eyes. "I may not be the world's greatest cook, Spike, but I can manage a few eggs. Go on, they're safe to eat."

Spike shook his head. "No, no- it's not your cooking, boss." He still seemed confused. "Why are you doing this? I mean, it's just me. You don't have to-"

"I know I don't have to." Greg interrupted. "I want to. And Spike, it's never 'just you', okay? You mean a lot to me. To all of us. And contrary to what you believe, you don't have to shoulder everything by yourself. That's what we're here for." He sat down opposite to Spike. "Now eat your eggs. They're getting cold."

Spike ducked his head as he picked up his fork, ears burning. But when he started into his breakfast, his embarrassment was forgotten as he realized just how hungry he was. Within five minutes his plate was clear and the bacon was looking dangerously close to extinction. Greg motioned for him to finish it. "I made it for you anyway, Spike. You didn't eat much yesterday and I figured you'd be hungry." Spike glanced up dubiously, and Greg smiled. "Really, I did. Do you want me to put on more eggs?"

Spike shook his head as he snagged the last of the bacon. "I'm actually really tired again, boss. Can I use your phone? I need to call a cab to get home." He began to stand up, looking around for the phone, but before he knew it, Greg was there, pushing him back into his seat.

"No, Spike, you can't use my phone. I'd really prefer it if you stayed here for a bit, okay? That way I can make sure nothing horrible happens- you took a pretty hard hit to the head yesterday, and they say safety is always the best policy." The truth was, he didn't want Spike to be alone after the emotional roller coaster that was their last call, but he wasn't about to say that. Spike's ego was fragile enough as it was. "Can you do that, buddy? Just for a little bit, and then you can go home."

Spike wasn't convinced. "No, boss, you've already done enough for me. I can manage well enough on my own." He was tiring fast, though. His head had started drooping toward the table, and his hands were slack on his knees. Greg doubted he could make it home, much less look after himself.

"I know you could manage, Spike." He lied. "But I'd still much rather you were here. Come on, let's get you back to bed. We still have a few hours before shift, and I'll wake you up in plenty of time." Spike didn't have the strength to protest as Greg led him back down the hall. As he walked back into the guest room, though, he briefly stopped and looked at his boss.

"It's honesty, Sarge. Honesty is the best policy. Not safety. Just so you know."

Greg smiled. "Right back at you, buddy. Now come on. Bed. I'll wake you up in a couple of hours." He stayed standing there in the doorway until Spike was safely in bed, and then turned around, heading for the kitchen. He hummed as he put some more bacon on the stove, and dished it onto his plate when he was done. He hadn't gotten any at breakfast, after all.

* * *

><p>This was a relatively short chapter, but it seemed the right place to end it, if you know what I mean. Greg also might be a little out of character. Oh well. As always,<p>

Review review!


	9. Chapter 9

Hey all! So, the dreaded debrief. Here it is. I don't have too much more to say about this chapter. Also, I'm pretty sick right now, so my next few updates might not stick to my every other day schedule. But then again, I may get better really fast, and then they might. We'll just have to wait and see. Thanks for all the feedback!

_Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?_

-Henry David Thoreau

* * *

><p>Spike was nervous. Spike was very nervous. Greg had gotten him up and driven him to the SRU, but had disappeared shortly afterwards, leaving Spike to stew in his own thoughts. With the upcoming briefing, those thoughts were not very pleasant. In fact, he was contemplating how best to vanish from the face of the earth when Raf walked into the locker room.<p>

"Spike?" he asked. "It's time for the debrief. Come on up, okay?" Spike nodded, feeling queasy. Raf winced in sympathy. "Maybe they'll go easy on… Okay, they won't go easy on you. It's gonna suck."

Spike looked up and groaned. "Is this you trying to help? Because, newsflash, it's not working." He put his face in his hands. "Can you just tell them you couldn't find me? Or, you found my body because I was attacked by a pack of wild rabid dogs that are now running loose through the SRU? That would be so much more pleasant than what's going to happen in that room. Oh god, Raf, I'm gonna die. They're going to skin me alive and then hang my body from the windows as an example. I'm too young to die, Raf, I'm too young!"

Raf just pulled him up from the bench. "Come on, drama queen. The sooner you get in there, the sooner it's over. You can do it, buddy." He grinned. "And by the way, can I have your locker once you're gone? Mine's a little too close to the-" He was cut off as an unamused Spike pushed him hard into said locker. "Okay, okay, sore topic, I guess. Hey, wait up!"

* * *

><p>In the briefing room, no one was grinning. Greg was sitting on one side of the table with Sam, and Ed and Jules sat opposite them. As a much more subdued Raf slipped into the seat next to Jules, Spike gulped. The only spot left was at the head of the table.<p>

He walked over slowly and lowered himself into the chair. He had always thought they were fairly comfortable, but now it seemed that all the angles were wrong, and random bits and pieces were jabbing into his back. He squirmed. No one spoke.

Finally, Greg reached into the box and pulled out a file. And then another, and another, and another. Spike stared at them. This case should only have one file. He looked around. Everyone was still silent. Then Ed reached over and took the top file from the stack. He opened it and flipped through a few pages. He found the one he was looking for, and then slammed it onto the table in front of him. Spike jumped.

"Critical incident 1137." Ed's voice was cold. "Scarlatti: 'We'll try a weight transfer. Why are you standing there, we need water, we need a shield-'" Spike just stared, too shocked to speak. They were bringing this up now? Ed picked up the next transcript.

"Critical incident 1224. Parker: 'Spike, there's no time, you get out of there!' Scarlatti: 'A! A is two, am I right? 4,2'- Lane: 'Spike, get out of there!' Scarlatti: 'Ed, get out of here!' Parker: 'Ed, you get out of there right now! Right now, do you hear me?' Scarlatti: 'One man down range, Ed!'"

He threw down the transcript and reached for another one. "Critical incident 1311. Scarlatti: 'Why did you do that? I did everything you wanted.' Subject: 'It's not over.' Scarlatti: 'It is for me.' Subject: 'Get them out.' Scarlatti: 'You already killed four cops. What else can you do? Go on, shoot me. I'm done.'"

He picked up another file. "Critical incident 1418. 5:09 pm. Scarlatti: 'I need a bomb suit.' Lane: 'What?' Scarlatti: 'No, it's fine. The last mine's wired incorrectly, that's all. When I spray the HCN, there's a chance some of the shrapnel escapes. The suit is just an extra precaution. It's procedure.' Parker: 'Are you sure, Spike? That's all it is?' Scarlatti: 'Yeah, that's it, Sarge. I'm fine.' Ed flipped the page. "5:54 pm. Scarlatti: 'I'm going to detonate the mine.'"

Ed slammed the file violently back on the table. "You have some explaining to do, Spike. Right now."

Spike looked around the table for help. Everyone stared back, unmoved. Spike turned his attention back to Ed. "I don't see the problem with this." He began nervously. "I was just doing my job, I-"

Ed exploded, jumping to his feet. "You were not doing your goddamn job, Spike! You were purposely putting yourself in danger, every-" He hit the table. "Single-" Hit. "Time!" Hit. Spike distantly worried that the table might break. He ignored it and started to argue back.

"I was not purposely putting myself in danger- it was the only way-" This time, it was Greg who interrupted, trying to stay calm.

"Spike, for Lou, it might have been the only way. But the second time, you could have gotten out of there in time to get clear of the blast radius. You intentionally disregarded orders, needlessly putting your life in danger. The incident with Natalie, you could easily have tried to negotiate with the subject. You didn't. Yesterday, you lied to your teammates, to your team leader, and to your Sargent in order to put your life in danger, a situation that could have been avoided if you took the time necessary to recover." Greg's voice was as hard as Spike had ever heard it. "You messed up big time here, Spike."

Spike shook his head. "I may have messed up by not resting, but I stand by what I did yesterday. It was necessary, and I won't apologize. You can suspend me if you want, boss, but I don't regret my decision to detonate that mine."

Greg just looked at him. "Spike, do you remember how you felt when Lou died? When that mine blew and took him with it?"

Spike looked up angrily. "That doesn't have any bearing on this! You can't compare what I did to what he did, that's just not fair-"

Now Greg leapt up, furious. "It's nothing to do with fair, Spike! And it's nothing to do with what you did or what he did! Do you remember how you _felt_ when Lou died? How helpless you were, how it was like the world was coming down around you? That's how we felt yesterday. You were dead, Spike! For fifteen minutes, you were dead! And we were all wondering what we could have done differently to stop you from going out there, to notice the signs- that's not something you can take back, Spike. That's not something you can just gloss over like it didn't happen."

Spike refused to back down. "It didn't happen, okay? It didn't happen, I didn't die, I was fine! Lou wasn't fine, it was different, and you don't even know what you're-"

"Spike, shut up." Greg hissed, leaning across the table. "You think you're the only one who carries around all this guilt over Lou's death? You think that because you couldn't save him, it was your fault? Well guess what, Spike? I sent him out there. I sent him out there, and he stepped on that mine, and I knew right then that I had killed him. And that haunts me every day. I am supposed to protect this team- that's _my_ job, Spike- and I sent Lou out there and it killed him.

"But he chose to die when he did to save you, because you were his friend, and he knew that that weight transfer would kill the both of you. That was a decision he made, and he knew exactly what he was doing. And what do you do to repay him? You take every opportunity you can to put yourself in danger. That is an _insult_ to his memory. I can't believe you, Spike. I can't believe what you're doing. Do you want to see him again? I do too, but I don't put my life on the line every day in some misguided _suicide_ attempt to achieve that. He wouldn't want this from you, Spike. He wanted you to live then, and he would want you to live now. And you've got some serious thinking to do about the choices you've made, and the choices you're going to make, because you cannot continue to live like this. I will not allow you to live like this, and neither will your team. Do you understand, Spike?"

Spike sat there looking at him, not moving a muscle. His lips were drawn, and there was no color in his face. Suddenly, he stood up and stalked up to Greg. Everyone prepared themselves for a fight, and Sam actually started to get out of his seat, but after a tense moment, Spike whirled around without a word and walked out of the room, shoving Ed aside as he went.

Raf stood up to go after him, but was stopped by Greg. "He needs to think about this, Raf." His voice was tight, and Raf stood there, unnerved. He had never seen his boss so angry.

Greg suddenly turned on the table. "Get out of here, everybody." He said sharply. "Now."

The team got up and started to file past him, avoiding his eyes. Then Jules stopped, and rested her hand on his arm. "You went too far, boss." She said quietly. She opened her mouth to continue, but thought better of it and walked out of the room. Greg stared after her.

When everyone was out of eyesight, he turned and collapsed into the nearest chair, burying his head in his hands.

* * *

><p>An hour later, Greg left the briefing room in search of Spike. He made his way to the locker room, but only Raf and Sam were there, and neither had seen the bomb tech. He wasn't in the shooting range when he checked there, or in the equipment cage, or the obstacle course. Finally, he went to the gym.<p>

Spike was there, on the treadmill again, running as fast as he could. Greg was reminded of the previous morning, and how bent out of shape Spike looked. He was worse now.

Spike saw his boss come in, and then resolutely ignored him. Greg let him have his silence, and stood next to him for a long time. Finally, Spike spoke.

"What do you want?" He asked, his breathing labored. "I don't think we have a lot to say to each other right now." He continued running.

Greg nodded. "I can see why you'd think that, Spike." He reached over and turned the treadmill off. "But I'd still like to try. You want to go for a walk with me?" Spike looked like he was going to refuse, and Greg reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. He stopped at the last second. "Please, Spike. Please."

Spike glanced at the treadmill, and then back at Greg. Finally, he nodded shortly. "I'm going to change first." He said and walked off toward the locker room. Greg waited until he came out.

"Why don't we go outside, okay? Then we can talk. Or, if you want, I can talk and you can listen." Spike didn't say anything, but turned in the general direction of the doors. Greg took that as a good sign, and started to walk. As they made their way outside, he contemplated exactly how he wanted to approach the conversation. When they reached the doors, he decided to screw it. "Spike, I'm sorry."

Spike barely glanced at him and kept walking. Greg followed him, unsure of how to continue. "I mean it, Spike, I'm sorry." Spike kept his gaze forward. Greg floundered for a bit and then grabbed his arm. "Can we go sit down? There's a bench over there." Spike didn't resist when he Greg led him over, but didn't help either. He sat down without ceremony.

"Spike, I know I went too far in there, and I really am sorry. I wasn't trying to hurt you, or embarrass you, or even make you angry, but I lost sight of what was important and lashed out." He sat down next to him, careful not to get too close. "I'm not proud of that. I shouldn't have brought Lou into it. I know that was wrong, and was probably the worst thing I could have said under the circumstances, and I'm sorry." No reaction from Spike. "I know how much he meant to you, and I'm not trying to diminish that. I just wanted you to know that you're not the only one who misses him, and he really would have wanted the best for you. Can you see where I'm coming from?"

Spike continued to stare at his feet and wouldn't answer him. Greg sighed, but got up to go. "That's really all I have to say, Spike. I understand how mad you are, and you should be. I was out of line. But just know I only want the best for you, okay? I'm going to go back inside. You're welcome to take a little time off- I've arranged for one of Team Three to cover you for today. I'll see you lat-"

"Did you mean what you said about Lou?" Spike was still looking at the ground. "What you said about thinking it was your fault?" Greg nodded, and then realized Spike couldn't see him.

"Yeah, I meant it, Spike. I meant it." There was a long pause and then Spike pushed on.

"I think I understand a little more about what you were saying yesterday, at the car. About saving a lot of lives, and then not getting over the ones you couldn't. I still can't help but think that I could have done more for him, but-" Spike faltered. "But I never for an instant blamed you. Just so you know."

"I know. And no one ever blamed you either. We all have our ghosts. We just need to learn how to live with them." He sat back down. "And Spike, I've spent a lot of time living with ghosts."

Spike finally looked over at him. "I'm sorry about yesterday. I never wanted anybody to feel like I felt after Lou, and I'm so sorry. I just-" His breath hitched, and there were tears in his eyes. "I just didn't want anybody to get hurt, and when I knew that wasn't going to happen, I thought it was better me than any of you. I was honestly ready to die, boss, I was, but I didn't even think of how that would affect you. I would never wish that feeling on anyone, and I'm sorry."

Greg put a hand on his back, rubbing it gently. "I know, buddy. It's okay. But you can't keep putting yourself in situations where you _are_ ready to die. That's not fair to us, that's not fair to Lou, and most of all, that's not fair to you. We need you here, Spike, and eventually, you're going to need to find a way to live with your ghosts too. It's the only way to reach any sort of peace in your life, and I want that more than anything for you."

Spike nodded miserably. "I didn't consciously think that I was doing anything wrong any of those times Ed talked about back there. I know it seems that way, but I really didn't. But I- I'll try to be more careful. In the future, I mean. I don't know how well I can do, but I'll try."

Greg nodded. "That's all we can ask, Spike. And don't worry; you'll have the whole team behind you. You can always fall back on us, okay? Always."

Spike just looked out at the scenery in front of him, and Greg followed suit. They sat there for a long time, and when Spike had pulled himself together, he turned around again. "Did they get anywhere on our subjects? Cabe and Arbor? Do we know why he tried to kill all those kids?"

Greg shook his head, going with the change of subjects. "They still don't know where they are. There are alerts at all the train and bus stations and the airports, but no luck so far. As for the kids, who knows? Cabe's appeal for damages on all that shrapnel he took was just overturned, so maybe he went to the place where it all began for him and tried to get some sort of twisted revenge. We have profilers working on it now, but we won't know for sure until we catch them."

Spike nodded. "I just don't understand what sort of person would do that. It's not like the kids could hurt him."

"I know, Spike. But some people's minds just don't work like ours. Don't worry, I'm sure we'll catch them." _I just hope it's before they try anything else,_ he added in his head.

He could tell by Spike's dark look that the younger man was thinking the same thing. Greg stood up. "Come on, Spike, let's go back inside. You can grab your bag and head out- we're going to be fine without you for a day. But, Spike? Head back to my place, okay? Your stuff's already over there, and I don't think you should be alone for too long. Not because I think you're going to do anything-" he added hastily at Spike's expression. "We just had a really long day yesterday, and that would put anybody on edge. I'll be back in a few hours, and we can have a movie night, just like we planned. Does that sound good?"

Spike looked at him warily. "No ulterior motive?" Greg shook his head. "Are you _sure_?" Greg nodded. Spike took a second.

"I can pick the movie?" Greg nodded again. Spike narrowed his eyes. "And most importantly, boss…" Greg was surprised by the intensity of his voice, and swallowed. "You won't try to cook anything?"

Greg outright laughed. "I'll just buy dessert, okay? Go home and make yourself comfortable. Maybe take a nap- you still don't look so good. Then pick out a movie, and I'll be back, and we can watch it. Simple. Now get out of here." He followed a satisfied Spike back into the building.

As they walked by Ed, the team leader raised his eyebrows and pulled Greg aside. "What did you say to him? He looks _happy_."

Greg just smiled. "Ladies in Waiting does wonderful things to a person, Ed. Wonderful things." He walked off, leaving Ed, incredibly confused, standing in the hallway.

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><p>I just want to say that I have had Greg's debrief speech written since the day I started this story, and boy, rgs38, did you hit it on head. I was nervous that you would just guess all the other plot points too, and I might have to give up and start another story. Anyways, nice going there.<p>

Review review!


	10. Chapter 10

Hey all! I really had fun writing this chapter- the humor stuff (even if it's not particularly effective) is a lot easier for me than most everything else. But still, it does get serious, so don't write it off as a fluff chapter just yet. (Not that there's anything wrong with fluff. I love fluff.) Onward!

_Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?_

-Henry David Thoreau

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><p>When Greg got home that night, Spike was nowhere to be found. He set down his bags, and went to go check in the guest room, thinking the younger man was still asleep, but nothing. He checked in the kitchen, then the living room, and then, in a final shot of desperation, his own bedroom, but to no avail. <em>He's gone home<em>, he thought angrily. _He said he would come here, and then he up and went home_. He pulled out his cell and called Spike, and when it went straight to voicemail, grabbed his keys and stalked to the door. He would kill him, he decided. He would kill him, and then drag his body over here and force it to eat.

He pulled the door open violently, but before he could take two steps, ran into something soft. Spike, who had had his back turned, let out a decidedly unmanly shriek as bags of groceries went flying into the air, spilling their contents all over the floor of the hallway. Spike and Greg stared at each other for a split second, and then lunged for the contents of the bags, stuffing them back into their rightful places. Both avoided the others' eye.

Once everything was safely packed away again, they stood face to face.

"I just went out for some-"

"I thought you left-"

They stopped, and Spike waited for Greg to continue. He did. "I thought you went home, and was just about to go get you again, but… well, I guess that won't be necessary." Spike shook his head.

"You didn't have any groceries in the house, so I went to go get some. By the why, do you literally ever cook?" He asked accusingly. "You don't even have salt here, boss. Salt! That's like the…" He struggled to find a metaphor of the appropriate magnitude, but gave up. "Anyway, it's a cardinal sin." He pushed past Greg to make his way into the kitchen. "You can't just live on take out, you know. It makes you fat and you die early." He turned around and waved a ladle that Greg was sure hadn't been in the kitchen that morning. "Fact."

Greg rolled his eyes and went over to help pull groceries out of the bag. "Spike, you can't possibly need all this stuff." He held up what looked like something out of a horror movie. "What's this?"

Spike snatched it out of his hands. "_That_ is ginger. Now no more comments. That cupboard there is going to be for spices, and the one over there is for ingredients like sugar and flour- basics. This drawer is for…"

Greg could barely keep up as Spike reorganized his entire kitchen in a matter of minutes. The tech was a whirlwind of energy, never staying in one place for longer than a second or two, jamming things into cupboards and drawers with scary precision. Greg eventually just gave up and got out of the way, standing on the fringe of the kitchen and watching the show. Finally, Spike was done.

"You got everything, boss?" Greg just shook his head mutely. Spike sighed as he tied on an apron decorated with a truly horrible flower pattern. "I'll show you again later. Now, I need to start cooking, so you go take a shower and watch TV or something. I'll be done in about an hour." He turned and marched off toward the stove. Greg stared for a minute, dazed, and then took Spike's advice and headed for the shower.

Half an hour later saw him back in the kitchen, albeit not helping. He sat on a stool to the side and made conversation with Spike as he cooked, being careful not to distract him at "critical moments in the cooking process", as Spike called them.

After a little while, a comfortable silence fell over the two of them. Spike straightened up, pouring the pasta into a serving bowl. "I'm all done here. Boss, would you mind getting the parmesan and setting it on the table?" As Greg did his bidding, he gathered up the pasta and bread and made his way to the dining room. Setting them down on the table, he motioned for Greg to sit, and then settled into the chair opposite him. "Now this is real food, boss. Italian cooking cannot be rival- Oh! I forgot." He sprang up and rushed back to the kitchen, emerging a few seconds later with a bottle of sparkling water and two glasses.

"Isn't wine the traditional drink with Italian food?" Greg asked.

"Well, yeah, boss, but you don't drink. Therefore, water."

"Spike, just because I don't drink doesn't mean you can't. I wouldn't mind, really."

Spike just looked at him, confused. "If you don't drink, boss, then I won't drink. Maybe if we were in a group of people, but just the two us? It's common courtesy- it would be rude for me to have something you can't. It's like… it's like making cheese fondue with someone that's lactose intolerant, and then just watching them eat bread." He wrinkled his nose. "Although, cheese fondue is disgusting. I don't know why anyone would make it in the first pla- " He stopped. "Anyways, rude."

Greg smiled. "Well, Spike, thank you for the thought. I appreciate it, even though it's unnecessary." He raised his glass. "To the team?"

"To the team, boss."

* * *

><p>"The Princess Bride, Spike? Really?"<p>

"You said I could pick out the movie!" Spike whined. "You haven't seen it, and it's a modern classic. Stop complaining. Anyways, I brought two. We can watch the second one when we're done."

Greg leaned over to see the other movie, but Spike hid it under a pillow before he could get a proper look. Greg looked at him suspiciously. "Spike… what did you get?"

Spike shook his head. "You'll see after the first one. Don't worry, you'll love it. Another modern classic. Okay, pop Princess Bride into the DVD player." He clapped his hands. "This is so awesome! It's one of my favorite movies," He confided. "Inigo is the best, although Westley is pretty cool too. Alright, be quiet now, it's starting!"

Greg looked at him incredulously. "I wasn't even talking! You just-"

Spike turned around. "I _said_, be quiet! We'll miss the beginning." With that, he turned all his attention to the TV, and Greg knew the conversation was over. He sighed and settled into the couch to watch.

An hour in, he was engrossed. The battle of wits between Westley and Vizzini was going strong, and he found himself on the edge of the seat. _It's in the other glass,_ he mentally yelled. _Westley, don't be an idiot_!

When the iocaine incident was over, he leaned back smugly. Of course Westley would win. He had known it all along.

* * *

><p>As Spike cleared the table three hours later, he couldn't help but gloat. "I knew you'd like them, boss. And don't think I didn't see you crying when you thought Woody and Buzz and all the others were going to die. You're just a big softie behind all that gruff 'I'm a policeman and I have a gun' façade."<p>

Greg protested. "I wasn't crying! I just had something in my eye, that's all. I don't cry at movies. I never cry, Spike." He sniffed. "Never."

He made it a full ten seconds before he broke. "You can't tell me you didn't cry too the first time you saw it, Spike! It was an emotional scene! Come on, you were scared, and you know it- they had been through so much, and then they were going to die? You'd have to be a monster not to be affected! There's no shame in my reaction. No shame at all."

Spike just grinned. "And to think I physically had to hold you down when that movie started. You can never argue with me again about my taste in cinema. I know how to pick a good movie, boss, and that is now validated. Now help me get these plates to the kitchen. I cooked, so you have to clean up."

Greg grumbled all the way through the cleanup. Spike just sat there with a smirk on his face, occasionally letting out a "_you were crying_" subtly disguised as a cough. Finally, Greg had had enough. "Alright, Spike, you've made your point, now get out of here before I resort to violence. Go to bed. I can finish here without your helpful input."

Spike got up, still smug, and headed out the door. "Good night, boss! Don't let the bedbugs bite!" Greg scowled until the minute he got in bed.

* * *

><p>Spike went to bed in the best mood he had been in for days. He lay down, replaying the evening in his head, planning out movies for next time, and just generally being happy. As he drifted off to sleep, it occurred to him that he hadn't felt so at home since his family left. It was a good feeling, he thought. Tonight was a good night.<p>

* * *

><p>Four hours later, he shot up again with a gasp. It took him a minute to recognize where he was, and then he groaned, rubbing at his eyes. He hated nightmares. He <em>hated<em> them. And two nights in a row was bad, even by his standards. Knowing he wasn't going back to sleep anytime soon, he got up slowly and put on a sweater, heading back out to the living room. He turned the TV on and set it to mute, just letting the two-dimensional characters with their simple lives and their simple problems distract him from everything going on in the real world.

He didn't know how long he sat there in a daze, but immediately snapped out of it when he heard footsteps coming down the hall behind him. He turned around just in time to see Greg walk into the room, his skin pale and clammy. Spike spoke up.

"Nightmares?" Greg whirled around, obviously not expecting anybody, and Spike took note of how haunted his boss' eyes were.

"Um…" He croaked. "Uh, yeah. Nightmares." He gazed at Spike, recovering himself. "You too?"

Spike nodded. Greg sighed and turned around, motioning for Spike to come with him into the kitchen. When they got there, he set some water to boil and pulled out a couple of teabags from a jar on the counter. Then he sat down at the kitchen table. Spike followed his lead.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Greg asked. His voice was still rough. "It sometimes helps." Spike shook his head, and Greg looked at him understandingly. "Okay. We don't need to talk. Let's just sit here for a while, okay? I know how disorienting dreams can be, and it sometimes helps to stay still for a little bit." He rubbed at his face, willing some color into it. "Have you been up long?"

Spike shook his head. "Just a few minutes. I usually can't go back to sleep, so I came out here to watch some TV. I hope you don't mind." The kettle started whistling, and Greg got up to attend it.

"Of course not, bud. Do you take sugar or milk?" He busied himself fixing the tea. "I've figured out that this stuff helps me go back to bed much faster. If you can't sleep, you might as well have some." He set a cup down in front of Spike. "My grandparents used to make it for me when I was a kid. They thought tea was the cure for everything. I guess in a way it is."

Spike didn't look up, and Greg sat down across from him, giving him space. Neither talked for a long time.

"Lou." Greg glanced up, confused. Spike was still looking at the table. "Lou and those kids from the school. I saw them dying, over and over again, and I couldn't do anything about it. I can never do anything about it. It's always-" he swallowed. "I can never do anything. They always die. Every time." He fell silent again, determinedly not looking up. The mug was shaking violently in his hand.

Greg reached over and stilled it. "Hey, Spike. Hey. I know how you're feeling, I really do. In a dream, you can't do anything, and as much as you want to move, you're always just a spectator, no matter how badly things play out. That's an awful feeling, Spike. I know that's an awful feeling."

Spike didn't move. "You know, I could deal with it, boss. I could deal with it if I wasn't so _helpless_. I hate that feeling." He was feebly picking at the edge of the table. "I- I hate that feeling more than anything else in the world. I became a cop so I could change things, and when I'm not able to do that, I can't stand myself. Because I put all that effort in, and it was useless, and I feel like I could have done more, should have done more- I know it's not rational, and I know that in all likelihood I probably couldn't have changed anything, but it still feels like a failure to me."

Greg nodded. "I think every cop feels that way, to some extent. At least, all the goods ones do. Do you remember how torn up Sam was when Ed had to shoot that guy in the hockey arena? He's still not over it. And each of us has those cases, the ones that we're going to remember forever. But it's not the end, Spike."

"But so many people _die_, boss. It's not fair, and we can't do anything, and it's just not fair to anyone. We didn't catch those two who tried to blow up the school yesterday, and for all we know, they're going to try again tomorrow at a different school and this time no one's going to spot that wire, and hundreds of kids are going to be dead. That's just not right, boss. No one should be able to get away with something like that."

"I'm not going to say it's okay, Spike, because it's not. But those kids yesterday didn't die. You saved them. They'll grow up and live happy lives. They'll change the world someday." Greg said, remembering their conversation in the restaurant the day before. "They wouldn't have been able to do that if it weren't for you. When things get bad, just remember that. It's not okay, but it's moments like that that start to balance out all the wrong, all those other people that aren't going to go on to change the world- it's moments like that that keep me going every day. Be sure you keep that in mind. It may be the only thing that's going to keep you believing in this world, and in this job. I know, Spike. It's taken me a long time to realize it, but I know. And someday, you're going to know too."

There was another long silence, and then Spike peered up at him. "Is that how you deal with the nightmares?"

Greg nodded. "Yeah, buddy, it is." He leaned back. "I'm glad you told me about yours; I know how hard that is. But you learn how to deal with them better every time. I promise."

Spike blinked. "Do you want to talk about yours? Your dream, I mean?"

Greg didn't say anything for a long time. Then he stood up. "Let's clean these up, okay?" He said, picking up the mugs. "Then we can go back to bed. You might be able to sleep now."

Spike stood, slightly hurt. "Okay, boss. Bed. I'm going now. I'll see you in the morning." He made his way into the hall and started towards his room. Just when he was about to walk through the door, Greg's voice stopped him.

"Spike?" His boss asked. He still had the cups in his hands. "Come here for a minute, okay?" He disappeared into the kitchen. Spike warily made his way back down the hall. When he stepped into the room, Greg turned to face him.

"My dream, Spike?" He faltered, and closed his eyes. "It was about yesterday."

Spike nodded. "I understand. But just like you told me, those kids got-"

Greg cut him off. "Not the kids, Spike. You. That explosion, and you flying through the air, and-" He took a deep breath. "Well, it was you, Spike. That's what I was dreaming about." He turned his back on him and started washing out the mugs. "Now go to bed."

Spike stood there for a moment, shocked. When Greg made no move to continue the conversation, he slowly, haltingly, exited the kitchen and went back to his room. He closed the door behind him, and sat on the bed for a long time before attempting to go back to sleep. When he did, he didn't have any more nightmares.

* * *

><p>So, very abrupt change in tone, but I tried to make it work. Again, still a little sick (but getting better!), so my posting schedule may be erratic for a bit.<p>

Review review!


	11. Chapter 11

Hey everybody! Sorry for the wait. So, I really like Raf in the show, and wanted to flesh out his character a bit in my story. It's not quite the direction the show has gone with him, but I thought this would fit my writing better. I'm not sure of how well it worked, though, so please please leave feedback. Also, a little bit of language in this chapter, but I guess that's why it's rated T. Thanks for all the help!

_Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?_

-Henry David Thoreau

* * *

><p>The next day in work, the team was back on more familiar ground. There was still some tension between Ed and Spike, but by the end of the day, it had all but disappeared, and there was talk of plans at the Goose. Ed, Sam, and Jules were all in, and eventually convinced Raf to join them. Spike, however, shook his head.<p>

"Thanks, guys, but maybe another time. I really just want to go home and veg out. You know, catch up on some reading, stuff like that." At the team's incredulous looks, he raised his eyebrows. "Well, we can't all hope to be illiterate apes like the lot of you. Some of us have to shoot a little lower." He smiled. "Seriously, another time. You guys have fun without me, okay? I'll see you tomorrow." Raf looked a little suspicious, but lost the chance to question him when Sam grabbed his arm and hauled him off in the direction of the cars. Spike watched them go fondly.

He turned around towards the locker room, only to run face first into Greg. After bouncing off of him and hitting the floor hard, he looked up. "We have got to stop meeting like this, boss." He rubbed his head. "Someone might get the wrong idea."

Greg just rolled his eyes and hauled him to his feet. "I can't help it if you're not looking where you're going, Spike. That, and you happen to be one of the clumsiest people I've ever met."

"Boss! I am not clumsy! Things just like to move into my way. You, for example."

"And the table this morning? And that chair this afternoon?"

"Okay, first of all, I swear that chair wasn't there when I walked into the room. And the table was very unfortunately placed. If they didn't want people to run into it, they shouldn't have put it so close to the door."

"Yeah, whatever you say, Spike. I believe you." Greg smiled. "Now what's this about you not going to the Goose with the guys?"

Spike shrugged. "Just want some time alone. I really haven't been doing much reading lately, and I think it'd be nice just to take it easy for the night, you know? Just relax. Not think about the job at all."

"I get it, don't worry. Do you want to come to my place again? We could have another movie night…"

"Nah, boss, it's okay. Thanks for the offer, though. Maybe I'll take you up on it again soon. But remember to cook for yourself, okay? I left plenty of ingredients, and I bought two cookbooks for you. They're in the third cupboard on the right. They're beginner, don't worry- even you shouldn't have too many problems with them."

"Okay, okay, pick on the old guy, that's it." Greg laughed, and then put a hand on Spike's shoulder. "But seriously, Spike, you know my door's always open, right? Just come on over anytime you want."

"I know, boss. Thanks. But I really am okay tonight, I promise. I just want to read and then go to bed. Nothing fancy. I'll see you tomorrow, though, okay?"

"Okay. Drive safe!" Greg called as Spike made his way past him. "Set an example for the citizens!"

Spike just waved his hand dismissively, not even turning around. "Goodnight, boss! And remember, takeout means early death!"

Greg chuckled as Spike walked out of sight.

* * *

><p>Spike really did just go home and read. He was halfway through a biography on Shakespeare and was attempting to separate the facts from conjecture as he idly picked at some leftover pasta. He had just surmised that the author was a complete hack when his buzzer interrupted him. He frowned as he got out of his chair. He wasn't expecting somebody, and didn't even think that anyone outside of his team knew his new address. He pressed the button. "Yes?"<p>

A young male voice answered. "I've got a delivery for an 'M. Scarlatti'? Is that you?" Spike could barely make out the words behind the loud popping of gum.

"Yeah, that's me. Come on up." He was even more confused now. The team wouldn't have sent him a package, and his family, as much as he hated to say it, probably couldn't afford to send anything overseas. His busied himself with clearing the table while he waited for the delivery boy to come up. Finally, there was a knock on the door.

The boy looked barely eighteen, and was supremely bored. He handed over a thick envelope.

"Who gave this to you?" Spike asked, turning it over.

"Some guy down the street payed me twenty bucks to give this to an M. Scarlatti. Said you lived in this building. That's all I know, man." He kept chewing his gum.

Spike examined the envelope suspiciously, and held it up to the light. The kid looked as he proceeded to run a few more tests. "Listen, man, are you going to sniff it all day? Can I leave?"

Spike didn't look up. "Wait here for a little bit and I'll give you another five dollars." That seemed to pacify the younger man, and he leaned against the door

frame, popping away.

Having found nothing suspicious about the package, Spike slowly slid a knife under the seal. He pulled out a stack of papers of all different shapes and sized. As he shuffled through them, Spike grew paler and paler. When he had seen them all, he pulled out his cell phone. His hands were shaking as he hit the speed dial.

"Boss? I need to see you. Now."

* * *

><p>An hour later, the entire team was sitting around the table in the briefing room. A slew of newspaper articles, cutouts of announcements, and maps littered the top of the table. Ed reached for one. "And you're sure that it was him that delivered them? Couldn't it have been someone else?"<p>

Spike shook his head. "I gave the kid a picture, and he said he was positive. It's Arbor, all right." He put his head in his hands. "This is bad, guys. This is really bad."

Greg's expression was grim. "We know, Spike." He turned to the screen at the front of the room. "Okay, let's go over what we have. 14 news articles about or relating to Spike, a picture of him in his bomb suit from Monday, and maps or cutouts of 17 schools, government buildings, or major population centers in Toronto. And then the note." He brought up a scanned page onto the screen. "Standard printer paper, no fingerprints, just the text- 'Next time you won't be so lucky. – D.C.' We can assume that D.C. is Daniel Cabe, but we don't have a timeline, and we can't possibly cover all these places forever. We just don't have the manpower. We've got to narrow it down." He rubbed his eyes. "Any ideas?"

Jules was studying one of the maps, and looked up. "Well, he had a personal involvement in the school yesterday, so I think we can rule out anywhere without a connection."

Sam nodded. "I would focus on any other schools he attended. He was expelled, right? So we can check records to see if he had problems at any of the other places."

"What about Spike? Why is this guy going after him?" Ed asked.

Spike spoke up. "It's a power issue. He didn't think anyone was going to defuse the mines. Even if someone saw them, like Reiden did, he really believed nobody could do anything about them. Frag chains are incredibly hard to deal with, and I don't think he thought there was anybody anywhere close to here that would even have a chance."

"But you did." Raf said quietly. "You defused those bombs."

Spike's voice was flat. "I'm the best." It was not bragging, just a statement of fact.

Greg nodded. "Do you think he'll try the same thing somewhere else, Spike? See if you can do it again?"

"No, boss. I've done it, and he'll probably move on now that he knows I can. I'm guessing the next one won't be a mine. Probably a larger bomb, indoors. Somewhere else where it can inflict a lot of casualties." He seemed defeated. "It'll probably be almost impossible to defuse. It's personal now, and he's going to want to make sure I'm the one that has to deal with it."

"Why do you say _almost_ impossible?" Sam asked. "Not to sound callous, but why not just make it impossible to make sure you go down with it?" Ed shot him a look, but Spike answered.

"He's going to try to do that. But no bomb is impossible to defuse. If the tech is good enough, that is."

Greg cut in. "You are good enough, Spike. We know that. But we're not going to let it come to that."

There was a pause, and then Jules asked, "Why make it personal, though? It doesn't make much sense. He could just focus on the bomb, but he gave us a leg up by warning Spike. Why?"

Greg answered. "Cabe thought that he was the smartest. The best. Now that someone's threatened that, he wants to prove it, and he probably won't stop until he can. It's a case of narcissism. He just can't stand to be second tier."

"Then he'll probably give us warning before he detonates a bomb anywhere, right?" Ed asked. "He's got to give us a chance to get there, so he can prove that Spike can't defuse it. That's good, at least." He seemed to regret it the minute he said it. It wasn't good at all. Not for Spike.

Spike just kept staring at the table. "I don't think there's anything we can do until he makes the next move."

"What about Arbor, though?" Raf broke in. "Why does he even want him there? It doesn't seem that they're on the same level intellectually. I wouldn't think Cabe would want to deal with that."

Jules shrugged. "He's probably just muscle. It couldn't have taken much to inspire loyalty; just make a few promises here and there about money, grandeur, anything. Show a little false affection, and he's got someone willing to die for him. Cabe probably doesn't care about him at all- as soon as he's done using him, he'll ditch him. It's pretty common."

Greg sighed. "We'll keep trying all the transportation hubs, but until then, let's just focus on the present. Spike, you need to be on high alert until we find these guys. Keep your gun and your phone on you at all times. If we can't reach you, we're going to assume something's happened. Got it?"

"Yeah, boss. Got it." Spike's voice was very quiet. "I'm also going to start reading up on more high-level bombs and the techniques used to build and defuse them. The more I know, the better prepared I'll be."

"Spike, there's no way to know it'll come to that." Greg said. "We might-"

Spike interrupted him. "It'll come to that, boss. We all know it will, and there's no use in denying it. I'll just learn as much as I can until then."

"But how much more can you really study, Spike? You already know pretty much everything about bombs. That's your job, right? And you said it yourself, you're the best."

Spike just looked at Sam coldly. "There's always more to learn, Sam. Always. If your job is defusing bombs, the minute you become complacent, you're dead. We're always playing catch up. That's just the way it is."

Sam winced. "Sorry, Spike. I just meant-"

Spike got up from the table. "I've got to go. I need to do a lot of reading in the next few days." Without any more preamble, he walked out of the room. Everyone stared for a second, and then Greg sighed tiredly.

"I'll go after him. Just- just go home and get some sleep, I guess. Be ready for shift tomorrow." Everyone nodded and slowly started to get up. Greg started out of the room to look for Spike.

Sam said what everyone was thinking. "This sucks."

* * *

><p>Greg found Spike in the locker room. The tech had his head in his hands, and was staring at the ground miserably. He looked ready to give up. Greg went over and sat next to him.<p>

"I'm sorry, Spike." He didn't know what else to say.

Spike shook his head. "It's not your fault, boss. This guy, Cabe- he's crazy. He was eventually going to focus on somebody, and that somebody just happened to be me. It's okay."

"No, it's not, Spike, and we both know that. It's completely unfair, and I'm sorry. I know it's not my fault-" he said when Spike tried to break in. "I know it's not my fault, but I'm still sorry." He moved down the bench a little, sliding closer. "After all that's happened to you, especially in the last few days, you shouldn't have to deal with this. And I don't know how to help you. I wish more than anything that I did, but I don't." He fell silent, just looking at the lockers in front of him. "I'm sorry."

Neither of them spoke for a long time. Spike was still staring at the ground, and Greg didn't want to push him to talk, to act, to do anything. He deserved his space right now.

All of a sudden, Spike turned to face him. "I don't know what to do, boss." He said plaintively, quietly. "There are too many variations, and I can't possibly predict or plan for what he's going to do, and there's just- there's just no way for me to win." He kicked weakly at the locker in front of him. "I don't know what to do."

Greg closed his eyes, at a loss. He settled for wrapping an arm around the younger man. Spike leaned into the contact.

"We'll get through this, okay, buddy? You and me and the team. We'll get through this." It was all he knew how to say.

Spike seemed to understand. "Just one step at a time, right, boss? We'll see where this is going. I'm sure it'll be over soon."

* * *

><p>The few days were spent in a constant state of tension. Everyone was wondering when Cabe might make his next move, and how they could prevent it from happening. Greg was busy supervising a search, and Ed was pulling every contact he had to try to get more information on the subjects. Sam and Jules just helped out where they could in between hot calls.<p>

Although Greg made an effort to keep an eye on him, Spike went relatively unnoticed in all the chaos. He spent every spare moment poring over reports, blueprints, and military technical manuals, and never spoke unless he absolutely had to. When Raf found him hunched over the briefing table after shift for the third day in a row, he sighed, and walked into the room. Spike looked up, but motioned to the phone in his hand. Raf nodded and waited for him to finish.

"Eight? And they're layered which direction, you said? Okay. Okay, that's great. Thank you for all your help, corporal." Spike switched off the phone. When Raf raised his eyebrows, he explained. "American army specialist. He's an expert on IEDs- disabled more than 100 of them in Iraq. I was just checking up on the specifics of some of bombs in the manuals. They didn't go into a lot of detail, so I needed an outside source." He stuffed his phone into his pocket. "What's up?"

"When was the last time you slept, Spike?" When Spike opened his mouth to answer, Raf cut him off. "And I didn't mean take a catnap in the locker room. When was the last time you went home, got in bed, and slept?" Spike was surprised by the concern, and Raf understood the unspoken question. "You've got circles the size of oranges under your eyes. I know I'm new, but I really do care about you, Spike. I consider you a friend, and I'm worried. So, sleep?" When Spike had to think about it, he sighed.

"You can't do this to yourself, Spike. You're not going to be any help to anyone like you are now. You're tired, you're shaking-" Here Spike quickly hid his hands behind his back. "You need to get some sleep, and you need to stop thinking about bombs for a little while. Come on, I'll drive you home."

Spike protested. "I can't. I haven't gotten through this- there's still so much more to do-"

Raf stopped him. "You said it yourself, Spike. You can't learn everything about bombs. And even if you could, all that knowledge is going to be useless if you can't stop shaking for long enough to cut a wire. You need to go home right now. I'm serious, Spike. Get your stuff, and let's go."

Spike looked like he was about to protest, but thought better of it. "Okay, Raf. I'll be back in five." He jogged off toward the locker rooms. Raf looked at the table, and the piles and piles of technical information. His brow furrowed. There really was too much. When Spike got back, he grabbed his bag and joined the tech on their way out of the building.

Spike looked over at him. "Thanks, Raf. For everything. This week has been tough, so- well, thanks." Raf just patted him on the back.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Spike came in looking marginally better than he had the day before. Unfortunately, that did not do anything to improve the mood of the team. After one too many hot calls, Ed lashed out at Sam over something minor, something stupid, and then Jules got involved, and Greg had to actually pull them apart. Spike just sat to the side, watching helplessly. Raf joined him.<p>

"It's not your fault, Spike." He said.

"What's not my fault?"

Raf was not fooled. "You're blaming yourself for what all the team is feeling. You're blaming yourself for making them fight like this, you're blaming yourself for setting the stress level so high, and Spike, it's not your fault. I'm telling you that. I may not have the most perspective on the team dynamics, but I know it's not your fault."

Spike just looked at him. Sam and Ed were still yelling loudly in the background. He tried to ignore them. "If I hadn't-"

"If you hadn't what? If you hadn't defused those mines? Would that have been better?"

"Of course not, but I-"

"You didn't do anything wrong. This guy isn't rational. He tried to kill a bunch of kids, and you stopped him. That's all you did. Whatever else happened isn't your fault."

"I guess I know that. It's just hard to watch everybody fight like this. I wish there was something I could do."

Raf shook his head. "There's nothing you can do about this, Spike. No one's blaming you for anything." He tapped him on the shoulder. "Spike, look here. There's nothing you can do, because it's not your fault."

"I could…" Spike trailed off.

"You could what, Spike?" Raf prompted. "There's no easy fix here."

Spike wouldn't meet his eyes. "There is. I could leave. I think I _should_ leave. I can go away, and Cabe would come after me, and then you guys wouldn't have to deal with all this, and everything would be better. I should leave."

Raf was too shocked to speak. Spike started to get up, but the other man yanked him violently back down next to him. "You can't leave, Spike. You can't." He said forcefully. "Remember what Ed said about this team falling apart without you? It's true."

Spike nodded toward the scene in front of him. Greg was standing in front of an irate Sam, who was attempting to push past him to reach Ed, who was being yelled at by Jules. "The team's already falling apart. It's because of me. Going away would solve all these problems. I could-" He swallowed. "I could get a job with CSIS, I know they want me, and then I could deal with Cabe alone. It might work."

Raf was gripping his arm so tightly his fingers had begun to leave marks. "You listen to me, Spike. You listen real good. In the debriefing, when Ed was reading all those case files, and Sarge was yelling? That was about your problem with the whole 'self-sacrificing' thing. This here is you self-sacrificing. Sarge was right when he said we wouldn't allow you to continue to live like this. You need to man up and face your problems right here. Running away will just make everything worse. For you and the team. You got that?"

Spike wouldn't answer. "It's the only answer, Raf. I'm going home. I'll see you tomorrow morning." He gently pried Raf's hand off his arm. "I won't leave before then, so don't worry." He stood up and walked off. Raf could only stare after him.

* * *

><p>When Spike was out of sight, Raf stood up and marched toward the team. Everyone was still yelling. Raf pushed his way into the middle of the melee and shoved Ed and Sam apart hard. "Everybody shut the hell up!" He yelled. "Shut up right now, do you hear me?" Everyone stilled, staring at him. "You better follow me into the locker room, because we have to talk. Right this damn second." He turned and stormed off toward the locker room.<p>

There was a shocked pause, and then everybody slowly followed suit. Greg jogged ahead of them, catching Raf right at the door. "Is something wrong, Raf?"

Raf just pushed by him. "I need to talk to everybody. You can wait until the rest of them get here." Greg was surprised. Raf was usually incredibly polite, and he couldn't think of a reason why that would change in five minutes flat.

By this point, the rest of the team had arrived, and everyone walked into the locker room and warily sat down on the benches. Raf paced in front of them, and Spike was nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly, Raf exploded. "You are a bunch of pathetic, goddamn _losers_ who can't get your heads out of your asses long enough to see the kind of of damage you're causing. I can't believe how selfish you're-"

Ed stood up. "That's enough, Raf! I don't know what's gotten into you-"

Raf turned without warning and punched him in the jaw.

Ed went reeling into the locker behind him, and time stopped for a moment. Nobody moved, staring in shocked horror at their normally mild-mannered teammate. Even Greg didn't know how to react.

Then Ed picked himself up and lunged over the bench at Raf, who stopped him with another brutal punch to the gut. He shoved his team leader onto the ground and stood above him, looking down coldly as Ed gasped for air. "You listen to me. You listen to me, or I will walk out of this room right now and turn in my gun and I will never come back. I am dead serious about this. You listen to me, Ed."

Ed got up again and started towards him, but Greg stepped into his way. "Listen to him, Ed. After he's done, we'll deal with it." He looked at Raf. "You better have a really good reason for this, Raf, or you won't need to turn in your gun. We'll take it from you."

Raf didn't even look at him. "It might be better than being on this team." He turned to the group. "Do you see Spike? Is he with you guys? No, he's not, and I bet you didn't even notice."

They started to look around. Raf continued. "Well, I just had a conversation with him, and guess what? He sees you fighting, sees you losing your tempers, sees everything, and he thinks it's his fault. He's blaming himself, and that's _your_ fault.

"It's not his fault, we know that-"

Raf plowed right through Jules' weak protest. "You know what he just told me? He wants to leave. He wants to quit this job, the thing he loves the most, because he thinks this team is falling apart, and he thinks it's his fault. And that's on you. You've got to fix this." He looked around at the team. Abruptly, he deflated, shoulders sagging.

"I can't even- I can't- Jesus. You know what, I'm leaving now. I'm going home, and if Spike ends up quitting, then so will I. We don't deserve him."

He opened his locker and grabbed his bag. "You're all thinking about what this means, and how to deal with it, but you're not thinking of Spike. Not as a person. You just let him fly under the radar while you try to solve some sort of puzzle, and that's not okay." He pushed the locker closed. "He means more than this case. Just remember that. I'll see you tomorrow." And with that parting shot, he walked out of the locker room, leaving a stunned silence in his wake.

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><p>So... Raf. Yeah. Let me know what you think.<p>

Review review!


	12. Chapter 12

Hey all! So, again, this was a really hard one for me to write. Like, really hard. Please please review and tell me what you guys think. It's a lot more talking than I usually write, and I tried for a slightly different style here, and I don't know how well it worked. I really don't have anything else to say, so review.

_Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?_

-Henry David Thoreau

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><p>Raf showed up at Spike's door half an hour later. When he knocked, there was no answer, and he was seized with an irrational fear that Spike had already packed his bags and left town. He banged on the door again.<p>

"Spike! Spike, if you're in there, please open up! I really _really _need to talk to you, okay?" There was a pause, and then he heard some shuffling behind the door. He sighed in relief. Spike suddenly appeared before him.

"Raf, I don't want to talk to anybody right- Jesus, Raf, what happened? You look terrible."

"Do you mind if I come in?" Raf held up a box. "I brought pizza."

Spike stepped aside and ushered him into the apartment. "Uh, you can set it on that table right over there. The pizza, I mean. Here, let me clear you a seat-" He pushed a stack of books off the nearest chair unceremoniously. "There, sit down." He pulled up the next seat and cleared the books off that one too.

When they were both sitting down, he leaned towards Raf. "So, what happened? You didn't look this bad an hour ago."

Raf evaded the question. "Do you have something to drink? I would have gotten something, but I was in a rush and forgot-"

Spike leapt up. "Of course, I'll be right back." He started toward the kitchen. "But we're going to talk, to do you hear me?" He called as he opened the fridge. He pulled out two beers, and made his way back to Raf. "There. Now what happened?"

Raf took a long gulp, then set the bottle on the table and buried his head in his hands. "I just did something really stupid, Spike. Really stupid. I don't think I can fix this."

Spike leaned forward in his seat. "Nothing's so bad that you can't fix it. Unless you killed someone." When Raf didn't look up, his jaw dropped. "You killed someone? Oh my god, Raf, you were right, you really can't-"

Raf cut him off. "No- no, Spike, I didn't kill anyone. Nothing quite so bad."

Spike sat back and sighed. "Thank god. But if it's not quite so bad, then you can do something about it. What happened? Come on, Raf, I've only been gone an hour. You couldn't have done too much damage."

Raf laughed darkly. "I could, Spike. I could."

"Okay… um, why don't you start from the beginning? Then we can see what you can do about it. Is that good?"

Raf swallowed and nodded. "So I- I was- god, I don't know how to tell you this." He steeled himself. "Okay. The beginning. It started when you left. After you told me you were going to quit. I was really upset, and the team was still fighting, and I didn't what to do, so I just walked into the middle of them and yelled at them to shut up." When Spike nodded and started to talk, he shook his head. "I'm not done yet. I yelled at them to shut up, and then told them- well, more like ordered them- to meet me in the locker room to talk. And they came, and they sat down, and I just started yelling. You were gone, and I wasn't sure you were coming back, and I told them it was their fault, and that you might leave because of them, and- god, Spike."

Spike grabbed his knee and looked him in the eye. "You shouldn't have done that, Raf. You didn't need to get involved on my behalf."

"Yes, I did, Spike. I don't regret yelling at them. They deserved it. They weren't thinking of you at all, and they needed someone to tell them that."

Spike looked down. "You shouldn't have done that, but you can fix that, Raf. We- you can fix that, it's okay."

"No, it's not, Spike. I was yelling at them, just tearing them apart, and then Ed got up and told me to back off. And- Spike, I was so angry, because he wasn't listening, and he still wasn't thinking about he'd done, what _they_ had done, and I- I just snapped. I didn't even pause. I turned around and hit him, hard. And then he tried to get to me, and I hit him again. And then he was on the ground, and I told them to forget it, I was done, and that if you decided to quit then I would quit too. And then I left. And god, Spike, I don't know what to do."

Spike was stunned. "You did…I can't…" He stared at Raf incredulously. "You hit _Ed_? And he didn't hit you back?"

"Well, he tried, but I was so mad, and I just- I hit him again. I think he would have really hurt me, but he was so surprised. _I_ was so surprised."

"And you told them you would quit? I mean, if I quit? What were you thinking, Raf? I understand people saying things they don't mean in the heat of the moment, but that was-"

Raf stopped him. "I meant it, Spike. I meant it. And I don't regret anything I said in there. I just regret hitting Ed. I really regret that. _Really_."

Spike looked at him. "Raf, you can't say that. About quitting." Raf tried to interject, but Spike cut him off. "I mean, it, Raf. You have to promise me that if worse comes to worse, you won't do that." Raf shook his head. "Raf, I have never asked for anything from you. This is me asking. You have to promise me."

Raf paused for a long minute, and then nodded. "Okay, Spike, but only because you asked. And it won't come to that anyway, right?"

Spike looked ready to answer, but there was another knock on the door. They both looked over, and realized it could only be someone else from the team.

Raf groaned and got up to open a window.

Spike was puzzled. "Why are you doing that?"

Raf just looked back at him. "If that's Ed, I need somewhere to go."

"But, Raf… I live on the tenth floor."

"Exactly."

Another knock, this time more insistent, rang out. Spike took one more glance at Raf, and then slowly went to open to the door.

When he did, Greg was standing in front of him. "Spike, I need to talk to you. Do you mind…?" He gestured towards the door, which Spike had only opened a few inches.

There was a pause, and then Spike nodded. "Yeah, boss. Sure. Come in." He opened the door the rest of the way, and Greg took two steps inside before he saw the box of pizza.

"Spike, you hate takeout. Why…?" He caught sight of Raf, standing miserably in the corner. "Oh." Greg said. "Spike, I'd like to talk to you alone, if that's okay." Raf nodded and stepped around him to the door, but a hand on his arm stopped his progress.

"Thanks, Raf, for coming here." Raf opened his mouth, but Spike tightened his grip on his arm. "Raf, remember what you promised." He said quietly. "Please." He gently pushed him out and shut the door in his teammate's face.

Greg kept looking at Spike, a little confused. He shook his head and lowered himself into one of the chairs. Spike nervously followed suit. "Boss, I'm sorry, I-"

"You don't have anything to be sorry for, Spike." Greg said quietly. "Nothing that happened today was your fault. Nothing that happened in the last few days has been your fault. I want you to know that right off the bat. No one blames you for anything here."

"Yeah, boss." Spike said. "That's what Raf-" He stopped immediately. "Sorry."

Greg sighed. "Again, Spike, no sorries, please. Why don't you tell me what you and Raf have talked about in the last few days?" When Spike hesitated, Greg continued. "We won't use anything you say here against him. I promise." Spike still seemed nervous. "Trust me here, Spike. I promise."

"Okay…" Spike began slowly. "Well, he's been bringing me stuff all week." He toyed with the pages of a book he had left on the table. "Not much, you know, but a cup of coffee here, a bagel there- just stuff he thought I needed. And you guys were all busy doing your things," at Greg's expression, he continued on hurriedly. "Not that I minded at all, I know everything you were doing was important. But still, it was nice of him, you know? And I didn't really even realize he was doing it until a few days after it had started. But then yesterday, he came into the briefing room when I was working through some technical stuff, and we talked for a little bit. I hadn't really slept for a few days, and he told me I looked horrible. I think he said I 'had bags the size of oranges' under my eyes." Spike smiled. "Anyway, he said I was doing too much, and dragged me out and gave me a ride home."

"And then today, when-" He faltered. "When everyone was fighting, I just felt so tired, and he came over and sat down next to me and told me it wasn't my fault. But it was, boss. It is." Greg shook his head, but Spike pressed on. "We talked, and he got really angry. But I was _so_ tired, boss, and I left him sitting there, and walked out. I think that's when it all happened, and I shouldn't have left, I should have stayed, I'm sorry-"

"Spike, stop it. Don't say that again. You don't have to be sorry." He rubbed his eyes. "Did he tell you what happened in the locker room?"

Spike nodded. "Yeah boss, but he's really upset, and I don't think he meant to hit Ed. He said he wasn't thinking straight, and it just happened- he really regrets it, boss, he does."

"He was completely out of line in there, Spike. And there are going to be consequences- Ed is beyond mad right now, and I don't blame him. But that's not the only issue here."

Spike was a little panicked. "I'm sure Raf didn't mean anything he said. He's as tired as the rest of us are, and he made some mistakes in there, but please don't-"

"Spike. Spike, stop. He's not going to get in trouble for anything he said, because he was right." Spike shut up very quickly, and Greg leaned forward. "We've been such idiots about everything, Spike. Everything. We were so concerned about you in the context of the case that we forgot to be concerned about _you_, and that's unforgivable. It is absolutely unforgivable. You said you hadn't slept in days? I should have noticed that, Spike. It's not okay that Raf was the only one who did. I didn't notice you had circles under your eyes, and I didn't notice you weren't going home, and I was so busy thinking about what Cabe might do that I didn't realize what he _was_ doing. To you. And the rest of the team didn't realize either, except for Raf. And we owe it to him for making us see that, but he shouldn't have had to.

He seemed close to breaking. "I am so, so sorry, Spike. I said that we'd get through this, you and me and the team, but we haven't even tried. And I am so sorry. I don't think I can ever make this up to you."

"It's okay, boss. It's not your fault." Spike smiled weakly. "I never blamed you for anything either. And you've been trying to help me. I know that, and I appreciate it, I really do. But you can't help me forever. I'm going to have to deal with things myself."

Greg started to see where this was going. "No, Spike, we're here to help you. That's what the team is for. You don't have to deal with anything by yourself. I know we haven't lived up to it recently, but I meant it when I said we would go through this together."

"Remember Lou, boss? Remember Mac, remember Natalie? They thought we 'would go through this' together. Now two of them are dead, and the other one is traumatized. I am responsible for that. I know you don't think that, and maybe I'm not, entirely, but each one was directly linked to me. Even you can't deny that, boss."

"No, Spike, we've told you before." Greg felt an inkling of dread seep into his voice. "It's not your fault, you know that-"

"I've got to fix this, boss. I'm not about to let someone else die because I was too slow to stop it. I care about you too much. There's really only one thing I can do."

"No, Spike, don't do this, you don't know what you're saying-" Greg was frantic now. "Think about what this will do to the team, to me-"

"I am thinking about the team, boss." Spike said flatly. "That's all I'm thinking about." He looked Greg directly in the eye. "I need to leave. I should have already done it, and we never would have had to deal with this." He waved his hand vaguely. "I've already started packing, I can be out of here by tomorrow." He was surprised by the look in Greg's eyes. He seemed at a complete loss. Spike ignored it and stood up, walking toward his bedroom. "I'm going to finish now, actually-"

Greg grabbed his arm desperately. He pulled Spike back toward the table and turned him so they were facing each other. He swallowed, and opened his mouth. He closed it again. When he had gathered himself enough to speak, he grabbed Spike's other arm so the younger man couldn't turn away.

"Spike, I don't have any right to ask you anything right now, but please, Spike. Don't leave. Please. I would never-" His voice broke. "I could never forgive myself. Please. If I can never ask anything from you again, please don't leave. You'll never have to defuse another bomb, you'll never have to- I'll do anything, Spike. I'll do whatever you want me to. But please, Spike, don't do this to me. Please. That's all I'll ever ask of you again. Just please don't leave."

Spike had never seen his boss like this. He wasn't negotiating, he wasn't trying to talk him down, he was just standing there, completely vulnerable. He was begging, and that almost changed Spike's mind. He took a deep breath. "I'm going to finish packing. I think you should go."

And just like that, Greg was beaten. His shoulders sagged, and he closed in on himself. "Okay, Spike. Okay." He let go of Spike's arms and turned towards the door, slowly making his way to the threshold. As he walked out the door, he stopped at the last second. He looked completely defeated."Spike, if there's nothing I can do to convince you, I just want you to know this. I love you like a son. I meant it then, and I mean it now." Spike didn't so much as twitch, and Greg pressed his eyes shut.

"If I don't see you again-" He swallowed, pushing down a crippling wave of emotion. He could barely get the words out. "If I don't see you again, it's been such an honor. Such an honor. Goodbye, Spike." And with that, he was gone.

Spike watched him go, and stood there for a long time. When he turned around, he walked straight into his room and closed the door.

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><p>I hope everyone was in character, and it all sounded plausible. Thanks to rgs38 for all the help.<p>

Review review!


	13. Chapter 13

Hi everybody! I don't want to interrupt the flow, so to say, so author's notes are at the bottom.

_Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?_

-Henry David Thoreau

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><p>It took Greg an hour to get home. It should have been twenty minutes, but he couldn't focus on the roads, the cars, anything. It didn't really matter, after all. Spike was leaving, so nothing really mattered. His hands shook on the wheel, and he was vaguely surprised that he hadn't already crashed. Spike was leaving. Spike was leaving, and he should have done something because Spike was leaving and it was his fault.<p>

Somehow, eventually, he made it to his apartment. It took another fifteen minutes to muster the will to get out of the car, and then he was dragging himself up the stairs and shakily putting his key in the lock. As soon as the door had closed behind him, he collapsed against it. Spike's face flitted across his mind. When he had told Greg to go, there was not an ounce of regret, of emotion, and he couldn't process that. Not from Spike.

He let his head fall back against the door. It was over, and it was his fault. He should never have allowed Spike to go out there and try to deal with those mines at the school, he should never have let Cabe and Arbor get away, he should never have yelled at Spike at the debrief, and most of all, he should never have forgotten to pay attention to him in the last few days. Jesus, he had _forgotten_. What kind of boss did that? What kind of person did that?

And now Spike was gone. And Greg couldn't move, paralyzed by the shock, the guilt he was feeling. Or not feeling. He was numb all over, and he knew he should get up, get up and do anything, but he just couldn't bring himself to move. Well, he thought hazily, the door was as good a place as any other.

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><p>An hour into shift, Ed was getting seriously worried. Neither Greg nor Spike had shown up for work, and he knew they had been together last night. He pulled out his phone and called Greg. It rang and rang and rang, but nobody picked up. Ed ended the call and immediately tried Spike. Straight to voicemail. Slamming his phone down violently on the table, he cursed, and then yelled for Jules to come over.<p>

"I'm going to try to find Spike and Greg, Jules. Get team four to stay late, and wait for my call. If I can't find them, we need to assume the worst here. Cabe and Arbor are still on the loose, and we know they have an agenda with Spike. I'll be in touch within an hour." Jules nodded worriedly, and Ed jogged for the door. He would try Spike's place first.

When he got to his building, Ed tried Spike's buzzer. Nothing. Angrily, he let himself into the lobby and found the supervisor. The man saw his uniform and shook his head. "If you're looking for Scarlatti, you won't find him. A bunch of guys came over this morning and carried some boxes out, and then he came down and gave me his key. Said he wouldn't be back. Sorry, man you're going to have to try somewhere else."

Ed narrowed his eyes. "And he didn't say where he was going?" The super just shook his head again, and Ed wanted to hit him. "Thanks for the help." He spat, and turned around and walked away. He tried Spike's phone again, but all he heard was the voicemail. He felt his stomach roll queasily. This was not good. This was really not good.

He used his sirens to get to Greg's place in fifteen minutes. As soon as he pulled up, he was out of the car and sprinting up the steps, pulling his spare key out as he went. "Greg!" He yelled when he got to the door. "Greg, you better talk to me right now!" There was no answer, and Ed shoved his key into the lock and pushed the door open. Greg was nowhere in sight. Cursing, he checked the kitchen, the living room, the bedroom, but to no avail. He was just pulling out his phone to call Jules when he threw open the door to the guest room.

Greg was sitting on the bed, completely oblivious to the world. He didn't even look up as Ed came into the room. The team leader was immediately at his side, slipping the phone back into his pocket. "Greg?" he asked softly. "Greg, what's the matter? Come on, buddy, you've got to talk to me."

Greg looked up. He had dark circles under his eyes, and he didn't seem to be processing anything. "Spike's gone, Ed." He said finally. Ed could barely hear him. "Spike's gone, and he's not coming back." Ed gripped his arms and looked him in the eye.

"What happened, Greg? Why's Spike gone?" He was really concerned now. "You've got to tell me what happened, Greg. Did Cabe-"

"No, it wasn't Cabe, Ed. It was me." Greg was having a hard time talking. "I went over last night, and I tried to tell him I was sorry, that I didn't mean to forget about him, and he told me it was okay, but then to get out because he was leaving. He didn't even-" and he closed his eyes. "He didn't even care, Ed. He just stood there, and I tried so hard to convince him to stay, and he didn't even care. God, I should have-"

Ed just shushed him. "It's okay, Greg, it's okay. I'm sure he'll come back, he just needs time to cool off." But even as he said it, he knew it wasn't true. Spike had cleared out his apartment, and he was gone. Greg obviously recognized the same thing, because he didn't even acknowledge his words, just went back to staring at his hands.

"Ed, I can't deal with this right now. I'll be- I'll be back in tomorrow, but I don't want to see anyone today. Please."

"Okay, Greg." Ed said. "Okay. We'll get someone from team three in, and I'll pull Raf out of inventory for today. You just stay here and rest. But I'll be calling, okay? I don't want you doing something you'll regret later." They both knew he meant alcohol.

Greg nodded miserably. "Alright, Ed. I'll see you tomorrow. Thanks for coming over." He didn't look up.

Ed waited a long time to move, concerned, but eventually let himself out of the apartment. He picked up his phone to call Jules. "Jules? Everything's-" He had been about to say it was okay, but it wasn't. "I'm headed back. I'll talk to you when I get there."

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><p>Greg showed up for work the next day. Everyone was reeling over Spike's departure, and they were quiet and subdued as they went about their business. No one spoke to each other unless they absolutely had to, and even the other teams were on edge around them. Greg looked around and almost walked out.<p>

He didn't want to have to deal with this, deal with other peoples' emotions, their reactions. He didn't want to deal with any of them, and that frightened him, because if he didn't have his team, who did he have?

But he took a minute to straighten himself out, and then pushed the thought away. He would deal with this the best he could, because he owed it to Ed, and to Sam and Jules, and to Raf. He was their Sargent, and he needed to at least put on a brave face.

So he walked into the midst of all the tension, and he talked. He told them that it was okay, even though everyone knew it wasn't. He told them that they would get through this as a team, even though no one was sure that they would. He told them that they needed to push their feelings aside for the time being and to get ready for the next hot call, because there were still a lot of people out there that needed their help. That, they knew, was the truth. So they got ready.

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><p>The first call without Spike was a jumper. They didn't need the tech, wouldn't have used him even if he had been there, but there was still a hole. Every time they looked around, they knew that he wasn't in the command truck, looking up some security update, and they knew that he wasn't standing beside Jules, taking point. Greg talked the jumper down, and everyone patted each other on the back, saying nice job, we did it, we kept the peace, but no one was happy.<p>

There were no more calls that day.

The second day, it was a hostage situation at a bank. Jules couldn't cover Greg as he went in to talk to the subject, because she was sitting in the command truck trying to find more info. When Raf bounded into the truck with a question, he called out Spike's name by accident, and nobody mentioned the second of silence that came over the mics.

The third day, there were two calls. In the morning, it was a joint op with drugs and gangs, and they had to split up into one team of three and one team of two. Everyone knew there would have been three teams of two if Spike had been there. No one brought it up.

The second call was another jumper. Greg couldn't talk this one down.

The fourth day, Holleran came and told Greg they would have to start looking for a replacement. Greg refused. Holleran tried to reason with him, but Greg wouldn't budge. Holleran told Greg they would talk about it again soon.

The fifth day, Greg walked into the locker room to find Raf with an arm around Jules. He was obviously comforting her, and Greg turned around and walked right out again. They didn't notice.

The sixth day, Sam got in another fight with Ed. Greg watched dispassionately and only intervened when it looked like it was about to come to blows. Sam and Ed didn't talk for the rest of the day.

The seventh day, they resolved another hostage situation.

The seventh day, Greg broke down.

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><p>He was in the locker room when it happened. Spike had never cleaned out his locker and nobody else could bring themselves to do it, so it sat there, inconspicuous, except that everyone knew it was there and everyone steadfastly ignored it. Greg wasn't watching where he was going- he never really was, these days- and tripped on the very end of the bench. He went whirling off balance, and grabbed at the nearest solid object to keep himself standing. It was the locker. At his touch, it sprang open, and he was left staring dumbly at the inside of the door. There, right in the middle of all the family photos, was the picture of the team at the beach.<p>

And suddenly, Greg couldn't take it anymore. He reached out and pulled down the picture, throwing it on the ground, wanting nothing more than to stomp and storm and rave, but he just couldn't find the energy. Instead, he collapsed against the locker and slid to the floor. He picked up the picture again, staring at it, looking at how happy they all were, how happy Spike was, and he started to cry.

He hadn't truly cried- the kind of unconstrained, uncontrollable crying that leaves you crippled, unable to move, unable to think- since he was fifteen. But once he started, he couldn't stop. He just buried his head in his knees and let the painful, silent sobs rack his entire body.

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><p>Ed found him ten minutes later, and Greg didn't, couldn't react, even as his friend sat down beside him and pulled him closer. He just kept shaking, tears running down his face, and Ed didn't say a word. He didn't notice when the others came in, because Ed just looked at them and they knew that they shouldn't see this, that this went beyond their problems, and they walked out again without a sound. He didn't notice that it was getting dark, or that the other teams hadn't come in to get ready for their own shifts, because Sam and Jules and Raf understood, and they were keeping their own watch on the doors outside. He didn't notice when the tears stopped, because his body simply couldn't produce any more, and just because there weren't tears didn't mean he wasn't crying.<p>

And he kept crying. There was no end to it, nothing that would make it better, and so his head stayed buried in his knees and his shoulders kept shaking, and it hurt so much, but he couldn't stop, because you can only bend so far before you break, and he couldn't bend anymore. So he cried.

Ed just held him. He didn't try to comfort him with meaningless platitudes, he didn't try to distract him from his pain, he just sat there and held his friend as he let everything out. And once the shaking stopped, once Greg was just too exhausted to continue, Ed gently pulled him up and grabbed his bag and slowly led him to the car. As they walked out, there was no one in sight, because Sam and Jules and Raf were good at understanding.

When they got to the car, Ed got Greg into the passenger seat, and drove him home without a word. He helped him up the stairs, and to his door, and used the key Greg had given him to get them inside. He dropped the bag, and led Greg into his bedroom, and went to go get a glass of water. When he came back, he set it on the bedside table and stood back as his friend lowered himself down and lay back helplessly on the bed. He helped him get settled, and pulled up a chair and watched silently until Greg fell into a fitful sleep. Then, quietly, he got up and walked out, closing the door behind him. He let himself out of the apartment, and walked down to his car and started driving home.

Sometimes, words just weren't good enough.

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><p>So, yeah... no Spike at all in this one. The second half of this chapter is a drastic (and I mean drastic) shift in style for me. I usually write a lot of dialogue, but obviously, that didn't happen here. I thought it really fit the situation, but you guys have to let me know how it worked so I know what to do next time. Also, not going to lie, Greg wasn't the only one crying as I was writing this. I really do need feedback on this, so share, please!<p>

Review review!


	14. Chapter 14

Hey everyone! Thanks for all the feedback on the last chapter. I'll have more to say at the end.

_Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?_

-Henry David Thoreau

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><p>Greg dreamt of Spike.<p>

First, it wasn't Lou who had stepped on that mine. Spike had heard the click, felt the mine set under his feet, and within two minutes he had known that he couldn't do anything about it. There was no one who knew what pin to look for, no one who could suggest a weight transfer, and so he had looked right at Greg as he lifted his foot and killed himself.

Then, it was day of the incident with Natalie. Just like before, Greg was the first one on the scene, except this time, he came up the stairs, gun drawn, and Spike was sitting in the same chair, but he wasn't moving. When Greg shook his shoulder, his head lolled back, and there was a bullet hole in his temple and his eyes were still open and Greg almost threw up.

That scene morphed into the explosion at the school, and Spike was flying through the air again, and bouncing along the ground again. Again, there were tendrils of flame creeping around him as he lay there on the ground. But when Greg ran to him and lifted the body into his lap, there wasn't even a face left under the helmet of the suit.

And then Spike was telling him he was leaving, and he wouldn't listen, wouldn't listen, and he left. Greg picked up a newspaper the next day and saw in the headlines that a former SRU police officer, one Michelangelo Scarlatti, had been brutally murdered by two suspected terrorists. They had needed to use DNA to identify the body.

When he woke up, sweating and moaning, it was three o'clock in the morning. He got up, as he always did, to make himself some tea. But when he pulled out a mug, he realized that the last time he had done this, Spike was there. And so he put the mug away and went back to bed, even though he knew he wasn't going to be able to sleep again.

* * *

><p>The team had the next day off, and Ed called in the morning and told Greg he would drop by later. Greg didn't say anything, but Ed understood that that was as good an answer as he was going to get, and said to expect him around noon. Then he hung up. Greg stared down at the phone in his hand.<p>

He had tried it before, but he couldn't help scrolling down through his list of contacts until he came to Spike's name. He pressed call, and held the phone up to his ear. Voicemail. But the voicemail had Spike's voice on it, and so he tried again, and again.

* * *

><p>Ed showed up promptly at noon. He was worried as he walked up the stairs, because he had never seen Greg like he had the night before, and he didn't know what to expect. But he knocked on the door anyway, and waited patiently until it opened, and Greg was standing in front of him.<p>

Ed had to suppress a cringe. His boss looked horrible. He was as pale as Ed had ever seen anyone, and his eyes were glassy and vacant, even as he stepped aside. Ed walked in and set down a bag on the counter, and then turned to face him.

"Greg," he said, and Greg barely moved. Ed stopped, and led him over to a couch, where he sat them both down. "Greg, is it any better?" He knew not to ask if it was okay. It wasn't okay.

Greg shook his head, and opened his mouth, then closed it immediately. Ed thought he might break down again. He didn't, though, and continued to sit in silence. Ed let him.

"I don't know what to do, Ed." The words were sudden, quiet. "I don't know what to do. I can't keep this up, I can't keep living like this, but I don't know how to stop. There's just- I can't-" His voice wavered. "I don't know what to do."

Ed didn't say anything for a long time. "I don't know what to do either, Greg. I don't think there's a clear-cut answer to that." He looked over at Greg. "There's no miracle cure for grief. It doesn't just go away, but it might get better with time. I know it's not enough, but that's all I can promise you. That's really all anyone can promise you. I'm sorry."

Greg didn't move. "You don't have to be sorry. It's not your fault." He wanted to put his head in his hands, but couldn't find the energy. "I just wish I could see him again, that's all. Even if it was just for a second."

Ed nodded. "We all do, Greg. I know it hit you the hardest, but we all want to see him again. We've just got to try to keep going in spite of that."

There was no response from Greg, and Ed used the opportunity to get up and grab the bag he had brought with him. He opened it and pulled out a stack of cartons from the nearest chinese place. "If I know you at all, you haven't eaten yet, and so-" He stopped. "Is there something with chinese, Greg? I thought you liked it; we just had it a couple of weeks ago, and it was fine then."

Greg shook his head. "It's just that takeout was… takeout… never mind. No, I don't have a problem with it. Thanks."

Ed looked at him suspiciously. "Are you sure? Because I can get something else if you prefer."

"No, Ed, this is fine. I don't mind. I'll eat in a little bit, okay? I'm not hungry right now. Really, Ed. I promise I'll eat."

Ed still had his eyes narrowed. "Okay, Greg, I'm going to trust you on this one. Now, Sophie's expecting me. Are you going to be okay here? I can call Raf, he wouldn't mind coming over if you want some company."

Greg told him that no, he would be fine, and showed him to the door. As Ed was about to walk out, he stopped him. "Ed. Ed, thank you. For everything. For today, for last night, for the last ten years. Thank you."

Ed just nodded. "I'll always be there for you, Greg. Don't worry." He smiled. "See you tomorrow." And he closed the door and disappeared.

* * *

><p>Greg threw out the food five minutes later. Instead, he went into the kitchen and opened the third cupboard on the right. There were the cookbooks Spike had left him, right in the middle of the shelves. It took him three tries to get them out, because he just couldn't bring himself to disturb them, but eventually he got past it and opened the top cookbook to the first page. It was a recipe for pasta, and sure enough, it seemed simple enough even for him.<p>

He went around the different drawers and cupboards, trying to find all the ingredients he needed, and he put the water on to boil. He made pasta. It tasted horrible, so obviously something had gone wrong somewhere, and after he had eaten three bites, he threw that out too.

And he tried again. And when that was at least semi-edible, he searched through the book and found something that he could store for later, and he made that too. And he kept cooking, and cooking, and cooking, until he just couldn't cook anymore, and he ended up throwing two thirds of it out anyway. He really wasn't very good.

But it passed the time, and when he was finally finished, it was getting dark. He didn't bother to wash anything out. He could do it tomorrow. Or the next day. He collapsed on the couch, and didn't turn on the tv, or the lights, and he just lay there staring at the wall until he drifted off. He had nightmares again.

* * *

><p>The next week wasn't any easier, and neither was the third. Greg could tell the team was only pushing through by sheer force of will, but that didn't stop them from doing their jobs. Greg did his job too, but he didn't know how, because it wasn't willpower keeping him going. He didn't have any will left.<p>

Even so, he kept calling the shots, and the team kept on keeping the peace. Holleran had put his foot down, and so they had started running trials for a replacement, but Greg was drawing it out as long as possible, and said they wouldn't be done until the end of next week. In reality, they could have been done in two days, but Holleran didn't call him on it, because he had liked Spike too.

Sam and Ed were at least attempting to get along now, because they understood what it cost the team, what it cost Greg, when they fought. Jules had started to bond with Raf, because now that Spike was gone, Raf didn't know where to turn, and because Jules needed someone to talk to. Sam didn't even want to think about it.

Ed had kept on being Ed, and he was still ruthless during training, and he still watched everybody like a hawk, because he needed to know if they could be the best. And, throughout all of it, he kept an eye on Greg, because he knew what a toll this was taking on him.

Greg kept it together, and nobody mentioned what they had seen that night in the locker room, but he wasn't the same. There were no complaints about his work, because he was still the best at what he did, but every night he went home and tried to cook. He was getting better at it, because now he only had to throw out half of what he made.

Dean called, and asked if he could stay a couple more weeks in Dallas because his friends were going camping and he really wanted to go with them. Greg told him sure, it wasn't a big deal, and have fun with it.

They had a Thursday off that third week. Wednesday night, it was pouring, and thunder was booming outside, and Greg got ambitious and tried to make a dessert. He ended up lighting both the oven and the toaster on fire, and he was sort of proud of himself, because he hadn't even known that was possible for one of them, let alone both. But he went and got the fire extinguisher, because he didn't think his landlord would appreciate that type of achievement, and he rather liked his place.

He slept on the couch again, and, like every night for the past two weeks, he dreamed.

* * *

><p>It was Spike again, because wasn't it always? It was the day that he had refused to get out of that bomb radius, and he was shouting for numbers, but Greg didn't have an alphanumeric phone, and he couldn't think fast enough, and Spike was shouting some more, and then he heard the explosion through his mic and watched a split second later as the building came crashing down. And he knew Spike was gone, he was gone again, like he was every time, but he couldn't think and his heart was pounding in his chest, and it kept pounding, and that was strange, because usually he had woken up by now. But there it was, thump, thump, thump, and it didn't stop.<p>

When Greg jerked awake, it was still going, and he wondered if he was having some sort of heart attack, and if he should call Ed. But as he sat up and reached for his phone, he realized the sound wasn't coming from him.

He got up and stumbled towards the door, groaning as he checked his watch. It was too late for this. Or, more accurately, too early. He reached the door and pulled it open, rubbing at his eyes. "Ed, there better be a really good reason-"

He stopped abruptly and slammed the door shut again. He didn't move, panting, because if this was another one of his nightmares, he wanted out. It was too cruel.

But the walls didn't fade away, and there was no scene shift, and it didn't feel like a dream. So he reached for the doorknob again and slowly pulled the door open.

* * *

><p>As Spike staggered up the steps, all he wanted to do was see Greg. He didn't even know how he had gotten this far, because he didn't have his car and the airport was miles away, but he was here, and he just wanted to see Greg. So he got to the door, and he was pounding on it, because he was desperate, and no one was answering, and he needed to-<p>

And then Greg was there, mumbling something about Ed, and Spike opened his mouth to speak, but his boss took one look at him and slammed the door in his face. Spike didn't move, disbelieving, but of course he shouldn't have expected anything different. Of course Greg wouldn't want to see him, and god, he was so selfish, because why would anyone want to see him now, and he should have known better. He did know better.

But then the door opened again, slowly, and Greg was standing in front of him. And they just stared at each other for a long moment.

And Spike couldn't help it. "Boss, I'm so sorry, I just wanted- I just wanted to see you, but I shouldn't have come, and I'm sorry, god, I'm sorry, I woke you up, and I'm just going to go now-"

He started to turn away, but Greg's hand shot out and grabbed his arm, and his grip was so tight it hurt. Spike stopped, but Greg still didn't say anything, and so they were at a momentary impasse.

Eventually, finally, Greg let go of his arm, and there was nothing keeping Spike from going. But he couldn't move, even though he knew he should, because for three weeks he had wanted this more than anything. And now that he was here, now that he was on Greg's doorstep, he just couldn't bring himself to leave, because he really was a selfish person.

And Greg was still staring at him, and suddenly, Spike broke. It felt like his knees were going to give out any second, and he took a staggering step toward the door. "Boss…" he croaked, not even knowing what he wanted anymore.

And then Greg was there, wrapping his arms around him, and Spike was so relieved that he couldn't catch his breath. He buried his head in the crook of his boss' neck and held on to him like a lifeline, because that's exactly what he was. And Greg still wasn't talking, but that was okay, because he was there, and when Spike started to shake, he just tightened his hold on him and let him ride it out.

They stayed there, in the doorway, for a very long time. Spike wasn't thinking straight, or really thinking at all, but he knew he didn't want to move, because for the first time in a long time he felt safe, and he didn't want to lose that feeling. And that was fine, because Greg didn't let go either.

* * *

><p>Greg didn't believe that it was real. He suspected that any second, he'd wake up, that all this would just be another dream, just another image that would bleed slowly away as the day progressed, like all dreams do. So he held on to Spike for as long as he could, because he knew that it wasn't going to last, and he didn't want to forget it.<p>

But he could feel Spike's erratic breathing on his neck, and he _felt_ solid, and Spike was holding on as tightly as he was, and so he started to believe that maybe, just maybe, this was actually happening.

And then he was having a hard time breathing too, but he kept staring at the opposite wall, and he still couldn't say a word, because what was there to do, and what was there to say? None of it really mattered. So he kept holding on.

* * *

><p>Eventually, Spike slowly detached himself. When they were both facing each other again, Spike just stared at him for a minute, and then seemed to remember himself. He glanced down, and then back up, and his ears started to burn.<p>

"Boss, I got you all wet, I'm sorry, it's raining outside and I didn't get a chance to dry off, I'm sorry-"

And Greg, for the first time that night, spoke. "Spike." His voice was hoarse, and Spike stopped immediately. "Spike, don't apologize. I told you not to. You never-" Greg took a deep breath. "You never have to apologize to me, Spike. Never."

And Spike didn't speak, because there was nothing he could say to that, and he didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve any of this, he didn't deserve his boss, but he certainly wasn't going to argue with it. So he just stood there, until he didn't think he could stand there anymore.

It took him a moment to realize that that didn't just apply in a metaphorical sense, but in a literal one. His knees were about to give out, and when was the last time he slept? So he reached out and steadied himself on the doorway, and that seemed to snap Greg out of some sort of trance.

He took Spike's arm and led him inside and over to the couch. Spike sat, but even then, he was swaying unsteadily and his vision was swimming, so Greg gently pushed him down until he was lying horizontal. It took a second to realize that someone was talking.

Greg was kneeling next to the couch. "Spike, what's the matter? Are you hurt? Do you need me to take you to the hospital?" Spike shook his head woozily.

"No, boss, I'm fine." He mumbled. "I just haven't slept in a while, and I guess I haven't eaten much either, but…" He forgot what he was about to say. After trying hazily to remember, he gave up. "I'm really tired, boss." He settled on.

He felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder. "Go to sleep, Spike. You just sleep." Spike was fading fast, and couldn't figure why Greg's voice sounded so thick. But his boss kept on talking, so it didn't really matter. "We can talk later. Everything's going to be okay in the morning, Spike. Don't worry. Everything will be okay."

Spike nodded, and he couldn't keep his eyes open. But he felt Greg start to get up, and he didn't want that. "Boss, please…" He couldn't get the words out, and he was_ so_ tired.

Greg stopped moving. "What do you need, Spike? Just tell me what you need, and I'll get it for you."

Spike knew distantly that he really didn't deserve this. "Don't…" He said, and he wasn't even sure the words were making it past his lips. "Just don't go, boss. Please."

And there was a long silence, and Spike was sure Greg hadn't heard him, because he was getting up, and Spike really couldn't stay awake any longer. But in the last vestiges of consciousness, he felt Greg pull up a chair, and he was saying okay, Spike, okay, and Spike knew it really was going to be okay in the morning.

* * *

><p>So Spike came home. I just couldn't not write about him for long, so I brought him back. Also, we have more of the team in this one, and I like writing about them too, because they have a really interesting dynamic. I think it's such a balance of personalities, that when one of them leaves (i.e. Spike) it really changes the feel and the flow between the rest of them, and I tried to capture that in this and the last chapter. I didn't fully do it justice, but I tried. Anyway, feedback is still needed, so please let me know what worked well and not so well! Also, sorry for the late update, but I'll have the next one up soon. I hope. As always,<p>

Review review!


	15. Chapter 15

Hey all! Thanks for the reviews for last chapter. So Spike is back. Can't say much more about this one. Let me know what you think!

_Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?_

-Henry David Thoreau

* * *

><p>Greg called Ed first thing the next morning. He didn't explain what was going on, or why he was asking him to come to his place at 7:00 in the morning on their day off, and Ed leapt into his car and sped over as fast as he could. He knew that if Greg was using this as some sort of twisted goodbye call, he was never going to forgive himself.<p>

When Ed pulled in front of the building, he was immediately bounding up the stairs, and started to pound on Greg's door as soon as he got to it.

And he was yelling. "Greg, open this door!" When it didn't happen immediately, he fumbled through his pockets for his key, before realizing he had left it at home. "Greg, if this door isn't open in five seconds, I'm going to kick it down!" He was frantic now, and five seconds seemed to be an eternity. Just as he was preparing himself to bring the door down, it swung open.

Greg was pale as a sheet, and it looked like he hadn't slept all night, and Ed immediately assumed the worst. "Greg, please, it's going to be okay, don't do anything stupid, just-"

Greg just held up a hand. "Ed-Ed, come on, stop. Don't worry. And please, be quiet." He turned and walked back inside, motioning for him to follow. He did, warily, and noticed that all the lights were off, and couldn't figure out what was going on, because none of this was making any sense. And then he made it to the couch.

For a split second, he stood stock still. Then he was in front of Spike, grasping his arms, and Spike was smiling back. Ed pulled him into an embrace, and over Spike's shoulder, he looked at his boss. Greg gave him a tired smile, and for the first time since Spike had gone, it reached his eyes.

* * *

><p>Half an hour later, the three of them were sitting around the kitchen table, not talking about anything important, just reveling in the others' presence. Finally, Ed asked the million-dollar question. "Spike, what have you been doing for the last three weeks? Where have you been?" It was not an accusation, just a question.<p>

Spike wouldn't meet his eye. "Just trying to get by, you know?"

"No, Spike, I don't know. You need to tell me what's been going on." Ed's tone brooked no argument.

Spike was sweating slightly, and he couldn't stop squirming in his seat. "It's just- uh, I've been-" He tapered off and looked down at his feet.

Greg spoke up. "Ed, it's okay. We don't have to pressure him. I'm sure this has been hard on him too, so let's just give him a break this time, alright?"

Looking between Spike and Greg, Ed seemed to come to a decision. "Greg, could you give us some privacy, please? Maybe just take a walk for a few minutes?" At Greg's look, he reassured him. "I'm not going to tear Spike apart, I promise. I just need to talk to him alone. This is important, Greg. I wouldn't ask if it weren't. Just a few minutes." Greg still looked wary, but nodded and went to go grab his keys.

"Okay, Ed. But he just got back. Keep that in mind." He turned around and stepped out the door.

Ed turned his attention back to Spike. The younger man looked positively green, and Ed thought he might bolt at any second. So he reached out a hand and laid it on Spike's. "Spike, it's okay. I'm not mad at you." There was a pause, and then he shook his head. "Actually, that's not true, I'm furious." His voice was still placid and calm. "But I'm not going to yell and scream, because I don't think that will do anything to help anyone. It won't serve me any good, and it certainly won't help you either. But I want you to hear me out, got it? I'm not going to bite your head off. I just want you to listen to what I have to say. Can you do that?"

Spike nodded. "Yeah." He said hoarsely. "Yeah, I can do that."

"Thank you, Spike. Now, you need tell us what's happened in the last three weeks." When Spike looked ready to protest, he held up a hand. "Just listen, please. You don't need to tell us today, or tomorrow, but sometime soon, you're going to have to sit down and tell the team why you left, and why you didn't come back for three weeks. It's only fair. If you want, I can make sure that no one else ever hears about it, but you need to tell us. It doesn't even have to be everything. We just need to know the basics of what's been going on, okay?"

"Okay. But-"

Ed cut him off. "I'm not done yet, Spike. You need to sit down and tell the team, and then you need to talk with Greg on your own. None of us need to know what you say, but you need to say it to Greg. He won't ever push you to talk to him about this, because he's just too relieved to see you home. But since he won't, I have to." He rubbed his eyes. "You have no idea what this has been like for Greg. Everyone's been hurting, sure, hurting a lot, because we all love you. But you leaving didn't just hurt him, it destroyed him. It's not my place to tell you any of the specifics; he'll have to do that in his own time. But just know that in the fifteen years I've known him, I have never seen him like that. And I don't ever want to see him like that again. So you need to talk to him, just the two of you, one on one. And you need to initiate that conversation, because he won't. You owe it to him." He looked at Spike intently. "That is the most important thing I can ask of you, Spike. But it needs to happen."

Spike didn't say anything for a long time. Then he nodded. "Yeah, Ed. I'm going to talk to him."

Ed smiled. "Thanks, buddy. Now, I'm going to go get Greg, and then we'll call the team. I know you didn't get much sleep last night, so why don't you rest until they get here? Then you'll have more energy for when they do. Okay?" Spike nodded, and Ed walked him back over to the couch again. Before he could sit down, though, Ed turned him around so they were face-to-face. He swallowed. "Spike?" He asked, his voice low. "You're a good kid, and I'm happy to have you home. I know I'm not the best at saying it all the time, but I really do love you. I just want you to know that, okay?" Before Spike could react, he pushed him down onto the couch and turned away. "I'm going to find Greg. Go to sleep." And Spike couldn't help but smile as he drifted off.

* * *

><p>When the others got there, Spike was still asleep. He missed Ed having to steady Raf and sit him down in a chair before his legs gave out, he missed Jules falling into Sam's arms, and he missed the look on Sam's face when he saw his teammate on the couch. Greg just watched over them with a small smile on his face, and Ed went around making sure no one was having a heart attack. But everyone was better than fine, because Spike was back.<p>

The entire team stayed there, in Greg's apartment, until Spike woke up. It took a long time, but no one felt the need to move. Sam and Jules were wrapped up in each other, resting comfortably, and Raf hadn't moved from the chair by the couch and was holding a silent vigil. Ed and Greg were conversing quietly in the kitchen.

Greg brought some bagels out of the freezer at some point, because he was fairly certain the team hadn't eaten before he'd called them. Everyone thanked him, although there were a few looks between them that Greg didn't completely understand. When Greg also caught Ed looking at him askance, he just asked.

"Aren't you hungry, Ed? I know it's not high cuisine, but the last thing we need is to go full cop and start chewing on donuts."

Ed laughed. "No Greg, bagels are fine, but since when did you keep real food in your freezer? Or anyplace, for that matter?" He looked around at the shelves in the kitchen, which were well stocked with ingredients and utensils and the like.

Greg shrugged. "I've started cooking some, that's all. Trying not to eat as much takeout. Someone told me it 'makes you fat and you die early', and I decided I didn't want to die early."

Ed looked a little nervously at the bagel in his hands. "No offence, Greg, but the last time I saw you cook, it didn't turn out so great."

"Those steaks weren't that bad, Eddie!"

"Boss, even Donna's dog wouldn't go near them."

Greg threw his hands up in the air. "Why do people always bring that up? I make one mistake, and-"

"Actually, it was more like-

Greg talked right over him. "And that dog was sick! You guys just don't remember it right. I am a fantastic cook."

He turned to the living room, and the whole team, minus Spike, was staring at him. Jules piped up.

"Are you talking about the steaks at that picnic?" Ed nodded, and she shuddered.

Sam patted her on the back sympathetically. "I wish you guys hadn't brought it up. She just got out of therapy last week, and she still has dreams. Awful, horrible dreams about little black chunks of despair that the boss insisted on calling steaks. It's done a number on her."

Greg sputtered, and Raf just looked on, confused. Ed had on a grin that threatened to split his face in half, because when had the team last been like this?

Greg was still defending himself when a weak voice drifted through the air. "Boss, there's no use in denying it. One of those steaks shattered when you dropped it on the ground." Raf inhaled some of the water he had been sipping on, and Jules was doubled over in laughter. It took a second for them to realize who the voice belonged to.

Then everybody was up and crowding around the couch, and all of them were talking over each other. Spike looked overwhelmed, so Ed pushed everyone back a few steps. "Alright, everybody, let's just give him some room, shall we?" He turned to Spike, who was struggling to sit up. Grasping one of his arms, Ed helped pull him the rest of the way.

Raf spoke next. "Spike, buddy, we've missed you." He said quietly.

Spike smiled at him. "I've missed you too." He looked around. "All of you. It's been a really hard few weeks."

Sam nodded vehemently. "We're just glad you're home. It's tough finding someone who can work a computer properly."

Spike just rolled his eyes at him. "Yes, it's very hard. I seem to remember you having trouble locating the power button?" When Sam started to protest, Greg noticed that although the tech was joining in on the fun, his face still didn't have any color in it, and his hands were trembling whenever he held them up.

He stepped in, and Sam instantly quieted. "Spike, are you feeling okay? We can leave if you want some space."

Spike shook his head immediately. "No, no, I want you guys to stay. Please." When Greg nodded, he looked around sheepishly. "I am kind of hungry, though…" Suddenly, everybody was shoving bits and pieces of bagel into his face, and he was feebly trying to fend them off.

Greg cleared his throat, and the barrage stopped. "I can make Spike his own bagel, people. He doesn't need your scraps." He walked back to the kitchen to get another bagel, and Jules leaned in towards the couch.

"It's okay." She whispered. "You can actually eat these. Ed probably helped him out in the kitchen."

"I can hear you, you know!" Greg shouted as he opened the oven. "Ed's not even in here with me, and I'm doing fine!"

Sam glanced around furtively, and then shoved his half-eaten bagel into Spike's hand. "Quick," He urged. "Eat it now. If the boss doesn't have help, you're not going to be able to bite the next one, much less eat it. Better get as much as you can in now." Jules nodded her agreement.

Raf just patted him on the shoulder. "Do whatever your heart tells you, Spike." He said seriously. "To eat, or not to eat, that is the question. Whether to suffer the slings and-"

"Are you actually serious?" Sam hissed. "This is a matter of life and death, and you're quoting Hamlet?" He turned to Spike. "Just eat the bagel before it's too late. You know you want to."

"Just follow your heart, young padawan. And Sam, life and death? Really? And since when do you recognize Shakespeare?"

"High school English, okay? I'm not completely-" Greg had returned, and reached down and plucked Sam's bagel out of Spike's hand. Sam groaned. "Too late. Spike, I'm sorry. I tried so hard for you, my friend, but in vain."

Greg just rolled his eyes. "It's fine. See? No burns, no suspicious holes, no green around the edges… This one came out a lot better than the last batch." Jules looked at him in horror. "I'm kidding." When the look didn't go away, he repeated himself. "I'm kidding, Jules. There was no green- I'm kidding, Jules, okay? Stop looking at me like that!"

Sam soothed Jules, whispering calmingly into her ear. Greg could only make out a few words. "No… despair…this time…it's okay…"

Greg turned back to Spike. The younger man was already done with his bagel. Greg raised his eyebrows, but didn't say anything. He noticed that Spike looked a little better, but not much. "Are you feeling okay? I've got to be honest, you still don't look so good." He said quietly, sitting down on the foot of the couch. "Is there anything I can get you?"

Spike shook his head. "No, boss, I'm just-" He yawned. "I'm tired, that's all."

"Okay, Spike, why don't we get you to the guest room so you can go back to a sleep for a little bit?" He didn't miss Spike glance at the team. "We'll still be here when you get up. I promise. Now come on, up you go. That's it. Here, I'll walk you there."

As they made their way out of the room, the team stopped what they were doing and watched. Once they were gone, Raf broke the silence. "I'm really glad he's back, guys. Really glad." And no one had to say anything else, because there was nothing else to say.

* * *

><p>Spike woke up again a few hours later. As he swung his legs out of bed, he reflected that he didn't feel tired. It was a strange sensation, after the constant state of exhaustion he had been for the last three weeks. He basked in it as he got up, and threw on a clean shirt that Greg had left on the end of the bed. He walked into the hallway and made his way down to the living room, but as he went, he noticed something was wrong. The lights were all off, except for a strange flickering that was emanating from the living room, and it was quiet. He slowed down and warily stepped closer, and closer, until he was almost there-<p>

He ran right into Ed, who was walking out of the room fast. They both recoiled, and Spike took a minute to examine his team leader, and then paled. "Oh my god, Ed, what happened, what happened, is everyone okay-"

Ed clamped a hand over his mouth and looked nervously into the other room. "Shhh, Spike, you've got to be quiet." His eyes were red, and he had obviously been crying. When Spike opened his mouth again, he just tightened his hand. "You've got to be quiet, okay?"

Spike nodded, his eyes wide. Ed slowly took his hand off Spike's mouth, and they both looked at each other for a second. Then Spike whispered, "Why are you crying, Ed?"

Ed swiped angrily at his eyes. "I'm not crying, okay? I just have something in my eye." And he brushed past Spike and stalked into the kitchen. Spike stared after him, disconcerted, and then turned around and walked to the living room slowly. When he got to the doorway, he stopped, shocked by the sight.

The team was sitting in front of the TV. Greg was tearing up, and Raf had his head buried in Sam's shoulder. Both of them were weeping. There was a box of tissues on the floor, and the wastebasket nearby was completely filled. And in the midst of all the blubbering sat Jules, completely unaffected, just staring calmly at the TV.

Spike glanced at the TV. Then he grinned triumphantly. He turned around and went right back to his room, smiling all the way. He knew Greg would keep that movie around.

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><p>Your feedback keeps my going, guys!<p>

Review review!


	16. Chapter 16

Hey everyone! Thanks for all your reviews last chapter, I really appreciate everyone taking the time. This chapter is pretty dark. That's a change for this story; I've done angsty, but I haven't done dark. So be prepared.

Warning: talk about suicide in this chapter. If that's not your thing, you should probably just click the back button now, and tune in for the next chapter. Just letting you know ahead of time.

_Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?_

-Henry David Thoreau

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><p>Two days later, Spike was back on the team. He hadn't had a problem requalifying, and although normally his unexplained "leave of absence" should have had some pretty severe consequences, Holleran looked the other way. He had seen what the team had been like for the last three weeks.<p>

So Saturday evening found the team returning to the SRU, tired and dirty, but in better tempers than they had been in for a long time. They were joking around, playfully shoving each other into walls, and poking fun at everything from certain people's lack of hair, to others' lack of height. Jules especially was pushing back hard, when Spike spoke up from the back.

"Guys?" He said, and everyone immediately quieted. They were more attuned to his every action, every word than they ever were before. Spike looked around and swallowed. "I'd, uh… I'd like to talk to you in the briefing room when we're done cleaning up, if that's okay." The team nodded, albeit a little confused. Spike smiled nervously. "Thanks. We'll just- we'll just meet there, I suppose." Ed came over and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Ten minutes, everybody." He ordered. "Better get into those showers now." As they took his advice, he looked seriously at Spike. "You're doing the right thing, Spike. I'll be there in ten." He jogged ahead to the locker rooms.

Greg came up next. "Is everything okay, buddy?" He was concerned, and it only served to make Spike more nervous.

"Yeah, yeah, boss. Just want to talk to everybody for a little bit. No big deal." He lied. It was a big deal, to him, at least.

Greg looked at him for a second, unconvinced. Then he nodded. "Okay, Spike. I'll see you in ten." He walked off. Spike swallowed. This was going to be hard.

When everyone was settled around the briefing table, Spike took the seat at the head of the table. He was uncomfortably reminded of the debrief after the school explosion. But there were no case files, no angry faces, no yelling, and so he pushed the feeling down and focused on the present. The team was looking at him attentively, ready and waiting for anything he had to say. So he started.

"Guys, I'm sorry." They tried to speak up, to reassure him it was okay, but he held up his hands. "I need to get through this. Please, listen to me." He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I left, I'm sorry I didn't tell you where I was going, I'm sorry I didn't come back for three weeks. I know how unfair it was of me not to give you an explanation, and I'm sorry. The only thing I can say for myself is that I didn't do it for me." He had to take another deep breath. "I love it here too much, love you guys too much to ever want to leave. I just really thought you would be better off without me." When Raf tried to interrupt, this time it was Ed who quieted him. Spike smiled gratefully at his team leader.

"I believed that. I truly did. And the reason I didn't tell you I was going is because I knew you would try to stop me. Even if it meant your safety, you would have tried to stop me. And I couldn't risk that." Here he glanced at Greg, who was just sitting back in his chair and watching the proceedings. Spike mentally winced. "I was wrong not to give you a chance to get your say. I know that. And I'm sorry."

"Spike, where did you go?" Ed asked.

"I went to Ottawa." Raf raised his eyebrows. "Or actually, just north of it. A military facility called-"

"Dwyer Hill." Sam cut in. "I did my training for special forces there. What were you doing in Dwyer Hill, Spike?"

Spike fiddled with his fingers. "Research. I needed to know what kinds of bombs Cabe would have had access to, or would have been exposed to as part of a humanitarian mission. It would narrow the scope of what I would have to prepare for dramatically." He looked up. "And it helped. I found out that he had learned about frag chains from a report that was being circulated at the time, and I'd guess there are only about fifty other types of bombs that he's familiar enough with to build.

"So I got a lot out of it. But I couldn't get you guys out of my head. Not ever. You mean too much to me, and I thought that that was a weakness, and that I should try and get over it, but I could never do that. And then, a few days ago, something happened that made me realize that it wasn't a weakness at all, and that I needed to come home. So I came home."

Nobody moved, and he continued. "I'm so, so sorry. I never meant to hurt you, but I did, and I'm so sorry."

Then Ed leaned across the table. "Do you want to tell us what happened to make you realize you needed to come home?" Spike could only shake his head. "Okay." He said simply. "Thanks for sharing with us, Spike. It means a lot."

He stood up. "Does anybody else want to say something?" When no one responded, he smiled. "Okay, let's head home. I'll see you guys tomorrow."

As everyone got up and shuffled past Spike on their way out, they patted him on the back and ruffled his hair. Raf was last, and stopped. "It's okay, Spike." He said softly. "You're home now, and that's all that matters. Just don't leave again, okay?" Spike smiled weakly up at him, and Raf nodded. "Good. See you later." And he walked out the door.

Spike turned back to Greg's seat, but realized he had gone too. Running out of the briefing room, he scanned the area, but his boss was nowhere to be found. He groaned. He had really wanted to-

"Spike?" He whirled around, and Greg was standing right outside the locker room with his bag. "What are you in such a hurry for? Are you oka-"

"Boss, I need to talk to you." Spike blurted out. "Please."

Greg looked taken aback. "Why?" Spike opened his mouth to answer, but Greg just waved it off. "No, I don't need to know why. Of course I'll talk to you, Spike. Anytime. Come on, let's go back to the briefing room again."

Spike nodded gratefully and turned around. As Greg caught up to him, he smiled, but neither of them spoke until they were sitting at the table. Then Greg waited patiently for the conversation to begin.

Spike, after opening and closing his mouth a few times, finally spoke up. "Boss, before I start, I just want you to promise me one thing." Greg nodded, and he went on. "You can't interrupt me while I'm saying this. If I have to stop-" He swallowed. "If I have to stop, I don't know that I'll be able to start again. And I need to tell you this. So please, don't interrupt."

Greg nodded again, his expression grave. Spike took that as his cue.

"When you came to apartment the day before I left, I was horrible to you. You opened up to me, you asked me not to go, and I completely ignored you. I acted like I didn't care, and like you didn't matter at all, and I just want you to know how much that killed me. I really- you mean _so_ much to me, boss, and I thought I was doing the right thing at the time, but what I did to you can't ever be right. You told me not to apologize, but I need to tell you how sorry I am. I'm never going to forgive myself."

Greg still didn't talk, but Spike could tell he wanted to. "I mean it, boss. What I did was… I can't even tell you. What you told me at the picnic, and again that night-" He couldn't even bring himself to say it. "It means more to me than you'll ever know. And boss, I think of you the same way. You're like a father to me. You always have been, and I can never thank you enough. So I'm sorry."

Greg opened his mouth, but remembered his promise at the last second and shut it. Spike was silent for a long time before he spoke again. "After you left, I packed up the rest of my stuff and put it in storage. It's still there, actually. Then I went to the airport and bought a ticket. I didn't really even know where I was going, but I ended up in Ottawa and remembered Dwyer Hill, and so I went there. And I did a lot of research."

His throat started to close up. "And then I…" And he had to swallow again, because he couldn't seem to get the words out. "And then I started making the bombs I was reading about. At first, it was just research- I was in a bunker, and they gave me full permission to do anything I wanted as long everything stayed there. I built the bombs, and I would take them apart, because that's the deepest understanding you can reach with explosives. So I worked pretty much all day and all night, and I built bombs.

"But after a while, I started bringing in more powerful explosives, and more unstable ones. And they warned me- they said you can't keep doing this forever, because soon one of them's going to blow. But I didn't listen, and just kept going and kept going, and I was telling myself I had to know how Cabe would do it."

Spike had never seen Greg look so serious before. He was pale, and his lips were pressed together so hard there was no color left in them. But still, he didn't speak. Spike focused his gaze on the table below him, because at this rate he wasn't going to be able to finish. "Two days before I came back, I built another bomb. This one was- this one was different. I knew I could defuse it, because someone can never really make a bomb that he or she can't disable. But I would have had to be really careful, because it was beyond delicate. And I wasn't careful."

He still didn't look up, because he couldn't bear to see Greg at this point. His breath caught when he tried to go on. "I- I somehow made it about half way, and then I cut a wire I shouldn't have cut. And I couldn't do anything else to it, because it would blow."

"The bunker had a safety fallback. If you can't finish a defuse, or you want to test a blast radius or something like that, you can get out of there and remotely detonate the bomb. I knew the safety features, and I knew that.

He closed his eyes. "But all I could think about was that you guys would never find out, and that Cabe would probably never bother you again, and so why not? I could see Lou again, the team would be better off, and I wouldn't have to deal with- with anything anymore. So why not? And I was going to blow it.

"I actually got my pliers around the wire before what I was about to do hit me. I mean, I knew it earlier, but I didn't _realize_ it. And then I couldn't go through with it. I thought of the team, and you, and I just couldn't do it.

"I don't even know what I did after that. The next thing I remember, it was two days later and I was at your place, and all I wanted to do was see you." His voice was shaking, and he was about to cry. So he pressed his eyes tighter together, because he didn't get to cry. Not now. "That's what I was talking about earlier. What made me come home. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, boss."

Spike didn't look up for a long time, because he didn't want to see Greg's reaction. The silence went on for an eternity.

Finally, Greg broke. "Spike…" He moaned. "God, Spike." His voice was low and tortured, and Spike had to look up. His boss was sitting with his head in his hands, practically collapsed on the table. He had never looked so desolate, and Spike hated himself.

"Jesus. I don't even… Spike, I don't…" He couldn't even get a full sentence out.

"Boss, I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt you, I just-" Spike tapered off.

If it was possible, Greg slumped farther down in his chair. "This isn't about hurting me, Spike. You really think…?" His voice got even quieter. "God, I don't know where I went wrong."

Spike sat straight up. "What? Boss, none of this is your fault. I don't even know why you'd think that."

Greg looked up. His eyes were unfocused. "Spike, I need some time alone. Can you wait for me in the locker room?" He asked, and Spike had to strain to hear him. When he did, he nodded uncertainly.

"Okay… Yeah, boss, I'll go wait…" Greg didn't even look up again, and there was no reaction as Spike backed slowly out of the room. When he got to the locker room and dropped onto one of the benches, Spike lay back and closed his eyes. He had known Greg would be really upset when he learned about it. But, Spike thought, at least he hadn't followed through. He really didn't want to hurt his boss, and that would have killed him. And the team. So he was glad he hadn't blown that bomb.

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><p>Greg was having a hard time breathing. He felt numb, and he couldn't think properly, and his head was swimming. He just rested his head against the back of his chair and stared at the ceiling.<p>

Spike had tried to kill himself. He hadn't followed through, but he had still thought about, and decided that that's what he wanted to do. Spike had almost committed suicide.

Suddenly, Greg was trembling, and he thought he might throw up. God, what was he supposed to do? Spike couldn't just- he couldn't just throw it all away like that. He couldn't. But he had, and Greg had absolutely no idea how to deal with that.

This wasn't something he could fix. He couldn't just talk to Spike and make it all better. He couldn't make someone value their own life, and that's what Spike needed to do- value his own life. This wasn't another jumper he had to talk down. This was Spike, and he knew better than anyone that he couldn't talk him out of this. He didn't think anyone could.

So he just sat there and focused on breathing, because he really had to concentrate on it now. He wanted to go home, and not to have to talk to anybody, and to just forget everything. But he knew he couldn't, because Spike was sitting in the locker room waiting for him.

And Spike had told him. Greg knew that was a good thing, even if he wished he had never heard any of what he had to say. Spike had told him, and so now he had to try and get it together, so he could go out and meet his tech, and take him home, and try to get through this as best he could. But he didn't know if he could stand right now.

He sat up a little straighter, and waited for the world to stop tilting and spinning. Then, he carefully pushed himself up and started toward the locker room.

When he got there, Spike was draped over one of the benches, but the younger man sprang up when he saw Greg. "Boss, I'm sorry, I just needed to-" As he took in his boss' expression, he stopped.

Greg walked over and sat on the bench. He just stared at Spike, who was starting to get nervous again. But then, abruptly, he patted the bench next to him, so Spike haltingly lowered himself down.

Greg didn't look over, but wrapped his arm around him. Spike didn't think either of them was about to start talking, so he just leaned into the contact and shuffled a little closer.

And then Greg adjusted his position, and neither of them moved, and they stayed there for a very long time. Greg didn't think he knew how to do anything else.

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><p>So now you know what Spike was up to those three weeks. Nothing good, obviously. Let me know how the shift in tone worked in the context of the whole story. I know you guys already know, but this is my first story, and I'm experimenting, so any help is more than welcome. Again, thanks so much to everybody who reviews has reviewed.

Review review!


	17. Chapter 17

So sorry this is a few days late. I don't really have an excuse other than the fact that my life is a soul-sucking void of work and school that I am constantly trying to escape. But, yeah. I'll try to have the next one up in time. The action picks up a little in this one, which is good, because there hasn't been much of that recently. Thanks for all the feedback, and let me know what you guys think about this one!

_Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?_

-Henry David Thoreau

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><p>The car ride home was spent in complete silence. Spike desperately wanted to say something, to apologize, anything to get Greg to talk to him again. But he couldn't, because after what had happened in that briefing room, it had to be his boss that initiated the conversation. So he waited. And he kept waiting, and he kept waiting. Greg didn't utter a single word, and Spike was squirming in the seat next to him, just waiting for the anger, waiting for the bomb to drop.<p>

But it never did, and as they pulled up in front of Greg's apartment, Spike came to a decision. He cleared his throat, and his boss looked over. His expression was impassive.

"Uh, boss, I know you don't want to talk, and I'm sorry, but I just wanted to say thanks for letting me stay at your place. I mean, it was really nice of you, so…" Greg's still didn't say anything. "So, um, yeah. Thanks. If you wouldn't mind letting me come in and grab my stuff, I know you want me out your hair, and I can be gone in five minutes." Silence. Spike swallowed nervously. "On second thought, I can just get it later. I'm sorry for what I said earlier, in the briefing room, I shouldn't have pushed it on you, and I'll just be going now-"

He opened the door, and was just swinging himself out of his seat when Greg stopped him. "Spike." He said softly. Spike froze. "Spike, you don't have anywhere to go. You're staying with me."

Spike shook his head. "No, boss, there are plenty of hotels around, and I can stay at one of them while I figure something out for the long term… I can probably get my place back, or if I can't, I can find another one, and it's not a big deal-"

"Spike." Greg cut him off again. "Go upstairs. You're staying here." When Spike opened his mouth to protest, Greg just looked at him. Spike's mouth snapped shut. "Come on." Greg continued. He pushed himself out of the car. "Let's go."

Spike still looked as though he might say something, but thought better of it. "Thanks, boss." He finally settled on. "You don't have to, but I really do appreciate it."

Greg nodded, and they started their silent ascent to the apartment. When Greg closed the door behind them, he turned. "Spike." His voice was low. "Down at the car, you said you were sorry for what you said earlier, and that you shouldn't have pushed it on me. We need to talk about this, Spike. Not just about-" he stopped. "About what happened in that bunker, but why you think you shouldn't have told me. I need to know." He still looked pale.

Spike nodded hesitantly. "Okay, boss, we can talk. Do you want me to…?" He waved his hand in the direction of the kitchen. "Why don't I make something, and we can talk over dinner. Sound good?" Greg didn't say anything, and Spike took that as a yes. "Okay, I'll make some pasta. Give me about twenty minutes, then we can eat, and, uh… talk."

Without waiting for an answer, he scuttled over to the kitchen, and began pulling out ingredients. When Greg didn't follow, he sighed in relief. He knew he needed to have this discussion, but that didn't mean he wanted to. If he could put it off for a few more minutes, all the better.

Unfortunately, it seemed a matter of seconds before the pasta was done and he was walking back out to the table. Greg was already sitting down, and he swallowed. Lowering himself into the chair opposite, he tried to smile, and found that he couldn't. He swallowed again. "Okay, boss. I'm ready."

Greg looked at him for a second before replying. When he did, he went straight for the jugular. "Spike, why did you try to kill yourself?"

Spike flinched. It hurt to hear it laid out so harshly. But Greg was looking at him expectantly, and so he tried to come up with an answer. "Well, boss…" He struggled. "That's not what I was thinking about while it was happening. I never really even considered that that's what I was trying to do. It just… it just happened. I know it sounds like an excuse, but I swear I wasn't just building that bomb so I could blow myself up with it. I didn't even think about that. And when I messed up and pulled that wire, I still wasn't really thinking about it. I wasn't thinking about anything. It was just about dismantling the bomb, not about me."

He took a shaky breath. "And then I couldn't dismantle it, because I had pulled the wrong wire. I had messed up. And boss, I _always_ mess up, and someone _always_ pays the price for it. And it's never me. I hate myself for that, boss, because it's never me. It's Lou, or Mac, or you guys at the Metro Depot, or-" He forced himself to stop. This wasn't helping. "It's always someone else. So the bomb was just sitting there in front of me, and I had messed up. And I knew no one else was going to be hurt, but still, why shouldn't I have to deal with my own mistakes? And I might get to see Lou again, or maybe Mac, or maybe my dad. It seemed like the right choice."

Greg didn't move for a long minute. Then he leaned over and put a hand on Spike's. The pasta was getting cold in front of them. "Spike, that's never the right choice. Never. We say that to people every day on the job, but I don't think you quite understand it as it applies to you. You have so many people that care for you, Spike, and you can't forget that. It's never the right choice. I want you to understand that. I need you to understand that."

Spike looked down. "I know, boss."

But he didn't know, and Greg wanted to hit something, hard. "God, Spike. Do you remember the conversation we had after the debrief? Before you left? We talked about not putting yourself into situations where you're ready to die. You promised you'd try to be more careful, and I'll be damned if this is more careful."

"I know, boss, but- and I'm not trying to justify what I did, because I know it was wrong- but we were talking about how people would have felt if I died. How it would have been like Lou. And so that conversation doesn't really apply here, because you guys wouldn't have known."

Greg just stared at him. "Spike, that conversation wasn't about- I can't believe- I mean, you really…" He trailed off. His hands were shaking. "Spike, you don't understand at all. That conversation wasn't about us, it wasn't about the team. That conversation was about you. You can't just-" his voice caught. "You can't just decide to live or die because of what it would mean to someone else. You're a person, Spike. You have your own measure of worth. It doesn't matter what other people think or feel, you have to realize that what matters is you. You can't just make those decisions-" He stopped himself, and took a deep breath. And then another. "Is that why you think you shouldn't have told me? Because it's hurting me?"

Spike nodded, and Greg leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. "If you really don't get it, Spike, then there's nothing I can say or do to make you understand. And that's killing me. I just don't know how to make this better."

Spike wasn't sure what he should say. He had expected his boss to be upset, angry even, but this wasn't a reaction he had anticipated. "I'm sorry?" He ventured.

Greg didn't even look at him. "Please, Spike, don't apologize to me. I don't want you to do that anymore."

"Then what do you want me to do?" Spike asked. He was honestly confused.

Greg sighed wearily as he stood up. "Just- just think about what I said. And what I meant." He looked at the pasta. "I think I'm going to go to bed now. I'll see you in the morning." And he turned and walked out of the room.

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><p>For the next few days, there was an odd dynamic between Greg and Spike. It wasn't exactly tension, but nevertheless, the rest of the team noticed. On the third day, Ed cornered Greg and asked him if it was about whatever Spike had talked to him about in the briefing room. Greg nodded, but didn't give any details, and Ed looked suspicious, but didn't push.<p>

Things eventually started to get back to normal. The team was functioning better than they had in a long time, and everybody was happy and playful when they had a free moment to relax. Fate seemed to be conspiring with them, because the team didn't seem to get many hot calls, and when they did, the situations were never especially difficult to resolve.

But everyone knew, in the back of their minds, that it was too good to last, and sure enough, as they were getting ready in the locker room two weeks into their little sojourn, Winnie's voice came over the PA. "Team one, report to the front desk immediately."

"No hot call?" Sam asked, confused. "What's that about?"

Ed just jogged by him. "Only one way to find out. Let's go, everyone, now."

Everyone complied, quickly pulling on their boots and shirts, but they were shooting confused glances around, and murmuring under their breath. Finally, everyone was put together enough to make it out of the locker room and up to the desk.

When they got there, Winnie was uncharacteristically grave. "We've got a situation, guys." She held up a sheet of paper. "Letter just came in, plain envelope, no fingerprints, no flags. Just had this note inside of it."

Greg took it from her, turning it over to read it. Once he had, he closed his eyes. "It's him. Just one line: _'Time to play. Everybody have fun! - D.C_.'" He looked back at the paper. "Jesus."

There was a moment of silence. Then Ed cursed. Everyone's eyes turned to Spike, who had gone pale as a sheet. "Do you want to call another team?" Ed asked, even though it was completely useless, and the whole team knew it.

Spike took a deep breath, and set his jaw. "I can do it." He said determinedly. "I can do it. Do we know where?"

Winnie shook her head. At that moment, a voice came crackling over her headset. After listening for a moment, she looked up. "Never mind." She said. "We've got a location."

Ed slammed his hand down on the table. "This bastard is playing with us. Where is it, Winnie?"

"393 University Avenue. Courthouse."

"It's one of the locations he gave to Spike. Probably where he lost his appeal." Greg said. "Okay, everybody, gear up. Back here in five. Winnie, feed us on the fly." Everybody nodded grimly and jogged away.

* * *

><p>Ten minutes later, they were in their SUVs, heading towards the courthouse. There was silence over the mics as everyone contemplated what this meant for the team and for Spike. They couldn't think of a good way for this to go.<p>

In their car, Greg looked over at Spike. The younger man was staring straight ahead, muttering under his breath about ratios and different chemicals that Greg had never heard of. "Spike?" He asked quietly. "Are you okay?" Spike nodded, but didn't say anything. Greg pushed on. "Spike, I really need to know if you're okay. I know this is hard-"

"I'm fine, okay?" Spike snapped. "I don't need you coddling me!" Greg looked at him, surprised by his vehemence, and Spike took a deep breath. "Sorry. I didn't mean to yell. I'm fine. I just want to get this over with, and go home and punch some walls."

Greg reached over and squeezed his shoulder. "I know, buddy. But you'll dismantle the bomb, and then we can go home and you can punch all the walls you want. It'll be fine. Don't worry." But Greg's words were hollow, because he couldn't follow his own advice. He was incredibly worried, and he didn't know how to help. "If there's anything at all I can do, let me know. Okay, Spike?"

Spike nodded again. "I've got Babycakes in the back, but maybe we should call in another bomb suit, just to be safe. Cabe's good with explosives." That was a complete understatement, and they both knew it. "I won't know what else I need 'til I get there. Just like last time."

Greg winced. "Okay. Winnie, did you get that about the bomb suit?" At Winnie's affirmative, he continued. "Also, could you patch whoever called it in through? We need as much info as we can get."

He glanced at Spike again. _It'll be okay_, he mouthed. Then he touched his earpiece. "Hello? This is Sargent Greg Parker. I hear you called in a bomb threat not too long ago? Can I ask your name?"

A woman's panicky voice came over the mics. "Um, yes, I'm Grace Horn. Is everyone going to be okay?"

"Why don't you tell us everything you saw, Grace? The more we know, the more we can help." Greg soothed.

"Okay… I was- I was in the parking garage, just coming out of the building- I had jury duty, see, and I was in a rush, so I was hurrying, and I saw something weird next to a column. It was like a really big cylinder- probably five feet long, four feet high. It was all metal, and I realized it might be a bomb and called the police. That's all I know, I swear."

"It's okay, Grace, you're not in any trouble. Don't worry. Now, did you notice anyone suspicious hanging around? One, maybe two men?"

"No, no, just the bomb. If that's what it is. Oh god, a bomb-"

Greg cut her off before she could go into any more hysterics. "Okay, Grace, thank you for your help. You did a good thing today. We'll be in touch." He waited until she was off the phone. "Team, did you get that?" There was a chorus of yes's all around. Greg looked at Spike. "Do you know what it could be, Spike?"

Spike shook his head. "Not until I see for myself, boss. Have they cleared the building? If it's in the parking garage, it's probably designed to take down the whole thing."

"Yeah, they've cleared it, but it's a busy area. I don't know how big a perimeter we're going to need, and it's going to take a while to clear all the surrounding buildings."

"Okay, just tell them to do it as fast as they can." Greg nodded, but looked worriedly at Spike. He was still staring straight ahead.

"We'll get through this, Spike." Greg said quietly. "We always do."

* * *

><p>Everyone pulled up to the courthouse at about the same time, and immediately began grabbing equipment out of the their trunks. Spike was leading Babycakes down a ramp, and Greg was just watching. He was at a loss. For all he knew, Spike was walking into a situation he couldn't get out of, and there wasn't anything he could do.<p>

He spun around suddenly, slamming his heel hard into the ground. There was nothing he could do. That seemed to be the theme of his life for the last month. When it came to Spike, there was never anything he could do, and he hated it with a passion. If only he could trade places with Spike, if only he could be the one trying to defuse those bombs, he would make that switch in an instant. Spike was too important.

But he couldn't. He was still seething when Ed came over to him and gently tapped him on the shoulder. "Greg." He said quietly. "Greg, it's going to be okay. Spike's done a lot of research lately, and he knows what he's doing. Everyone's going to make it out of here."

Greg glanced over, felling all the fight seep out of him. "I hate feeling helpless, Ed. I hate it."

Ed nodded understandingly. "I know, Greg. We all do. But the only thing we can do for Spike now is to support him, and show him how much faith we have in him. He'll get through this, and he needs to know it as much as we do."

Greg barely smiled. "Deep, Eddie." Ed grinned.

"I have my moments. Now excuse me while I go cheer that one up." He tilted his head in Spike's direction, and patted Greg on the shoulder as he turned away. "Remember, boss, he's good at his job."

* * *

><p>Spike had just gotten Babycakes down when Ed came jogging up to him. Remembering the last time they had been in this situation, he spoke up before his team leader could. "Yes, Ed, I can do this, and yes, Ed, I'm fine." When Ed opened his mouth to speak, Spike cut him off. "Don't worry, I'm sure."<p>

Ed waited to make sure Spike was done. "I know, Spike. We all know how capable you are. Don't worry about it." He paused, frowning seriously. "There is one person I'm worried about, though…" As he trailed off, Spike looked up at him nervously.

"Who, Ed? Is someone in trouble? What aren't you tell-"

"Babycakes." Ed interrupted. There was a long pause as Spike tried to follow the non-sequitor. He gave up.

"What?"

"Babycakes." Ed repeated, as if to a slow child. "Your pet robot. Turn around, and I can reintroduce you."

"What? No- I know who Babycakes is, Ed. Why are you talking about her?"

Ed rolled his eyes. "I told you already. I'm worried. Why, she has to go into that big, scary building all by herself, with no one to-"

He was cut off by a resounding shove to the chest. "Very funny, Ed." Ed laughed, and although Spike didn't show it, he felt a little bit of the tension drain away. "You're welcome to accompany her, if you want. After all, what's a little bomb to you?"

"Absolutely nothing. I'm invincible. But still, I know you're still trying to prove yourself and all, so I'll let you have a shot at this one." Spike just heaved a long-suffering sigh, and Ed sobered up. "You'll do great in there, buddy. Seriously. We all know it."

Spike glanced up. "I'll do my best. I've got to send Babycakes in now, so I'm heading a little closer. You guys should back up."

Ed nodded, all business again. "Okay. How far? And is there anything else you need?"

"At least two blocks. Keep the civilians at three. And no, there's nothing else I need right now. I'll let you know. And, Ed? Thanks."

"Of course, Spike." He smiled. "That's what teammates are for. Now, I want to be home in time to see Izzy before she goes to sleep, so hurry up and defuse this thing, will you?" He pushed Spike gently towards Babycakes.

The tech went, glancing back at Ed as he did so, and Ed turned around and made his way back to Greg. When he got there, the boss raised his eyebrows. "What did you say to him, Ed? He's much more relaxed."

"I said I'd cheer him up, and that's what I did. I really do think he's going to be okay, Greg."

Greg just watched as Spike walked slowly behind Babycakes toward the building. "I hope so. I really hope so."

* * *

><p>You just knew Cabe wasn't going to be gone for long! So Spike has another bomb to deal with, and Greg is worried... and that's this story in a nutshell, I think. But I hope it stays interesting anyway! Please let me know what works and what doesn't- constructive criticism is always good.<p>

Review review!


	18. Chapter 18

This is another really technical chapter. So, more research! I actually do like doing it, but I think the NSA probably has me flagged as a potential danger to the country, because I spent a good part of the last week looking up bombs, how to build them, how to disarm them, how and when they are used, etc. It's probably not normal. Anyway, here's the chapter; really sorry it's late again - I'll try to be better about that. Enjoy!

_Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?_

-Henry David Thoreau

* * *

><p>Spike was completely calm. His hands were steady on the remote control, and he guided Babycakes along with practiced ease. In front of him, the entrance to the parking garage was looming closer and closer with every step, and everything around him was unnaturally still. There was no bustle of everyday activities; no one was walking around with their heads buried in their phones, and no one was chatting easily with their friends, their coworkers, their significant others. The leaves on the nearby trees were hanging limply, because apparently even the wind had decided to take a break. Spike was glad. It was starting to get cold out.<p>

He knew, distantly, that he should be feeling something right now. He should be strung out, he should be shaking, and he should be turning around and telling Greg he couldn't deal with this, and please, get somebody else, please. But inexplicably, he wasn't. Maybe it was all the time he had spent doing research. Maybe it was because he had beaten Cabe the first time, and why shouldn't he be able to do it now? Or maybe it was because he didn't care what happened to him. But he avoided that last train of thought, because he had a job to do, and that wouldn't help him do it.

He didn't realize he had reached the garage until he saw Babycakes tilt slightly as the ground began to slope gently down. He stopped, because this was as far as he was supposed to go. Babycakes could do the scouting.

Spike knelt down and settled himself into a comfortable position, and then pressed the remote. Babycakes slowly rolled off, and as her head disappeared below his line of sight, he narrowed his eyes. He was forgetting something. What was he forgetting?

_Oh_, he realized detachedly, _the team. I should be calling the team_. So he reached up to his ear and touched his headset. "Boss?" He asked. "I'm at the entrance. I'm sending Babycakes in now, and she's heading down to scout the second level. Is that where the caller said she saw the bomb?"

Greg's voice crackled back immediately. "Yeah, Spike. Second level, near the elevators. Are you okay? Do you need someone to come over? We all want-"

Spike didn't allow him to finish. He didn't want to think about that now. "I'm okay, boss. I just need to get this job done. I'll check back in when I know more." And without waiting for Greg to acknowledge him, he switched his headset off. He shouldn't have done that, he thought. Greg would be upset. But he dismissed the feeling, and concentrated on the monitor he had carried with him.

* * *

><p>Greg couldn't believe it. He kept repeating Spike's name through the mic, hoping against hope that the tech would respond, and say sorry, boss, I didn't mean to turn it off, and I'll come back now, don't worry. But there was just silence on the other end, and in his opinion, nothing was more ominous than silence. He looked through a pair of binoculars at Spike, but he was still just sitting there.<p>

Ed was there before he could process anything else, gripping his shoulder so hard it hurt. "What just happened, Greg? Why did he do that? He knows we need to be able to contact him." He was furious.

Greg just shrugged helplessly. "I don't know, Eddie. I don't know. I want to go get him-"

"You can't, Greg, and we both know that. God, what was he thinking? This isn't procedure, and he can't just ignore something like that now. It's not some random bomber we're dealing with here. It's Cabe, and he needs to be careful."

Realization slowly dawned on Greg. "He scared, Eddie." He said. "He's scared, and he probably doesn't even know it. You're right, it's not some random bomber, and since it's not, since it's personal, he doesn't know how to deal with it." He was beginning to understand. "Bombs aren't supposed to be personal. They aren't designed that way, and Spike relies on that. He knows all the technical specs, but this isn't just technique, it's feeling. It's a grudge. It's not normal, and Spike doesn't know what to do with that. He's completely out of his depth. That's why he's separating himself from us- he doesn't want to feel, he just wants to function, and he thinks that letting us into the equation will stop him from doing that."

Ed stared. "But… that's not even logical. We're a team, that's how we do our job, and changing that now won't help him, it'll hurt him. Come on, Greg, you can't possibly think that's right-"

"I don't think that. I just think Spike thinks that, and right now, there's nothing we can do until he decides to let us back in. It's not our game right now. It's Spike's."

Ed was quiet for a second, and then cursed vehemently. Greg couldn't agree more.

* * *

><p>The image was monochromatic, but even so, it was fairly easy for Spike make out the shapes of the cars, the columns, and everything else of any substance in the garage. He was pushing slowly towards the back of the second level, keeping a close eye out for any booby-traps or tripwires, because after what had happened last time, he didn't want to take any chances.<p>

It took a long time for Babycakes to make it down to where the bomb was. His search came up clean, though, and so he apprehensively turned the camera to sweep the area. A sinking feeling was starting to take root in his stomach- he had absolutely no idea what to expect, and he kept imagining some horrible convoluted creation like something out of a science fiction novel. He knew it wasn't rational, but he couldn't help but worry anyway.

It took only seconds before the camera swiveled just so far, and the bomb came into view. Spike swallowed. He turned on his headset. "Guys?" he asked. His voice was shaking, and he hated himself for it.

"Spike! God, thank you, you're back, we were worried-" Greg's relief was palpable, and Spike wanted so desperately to ignore him, to just keep going like he had been, but he couldn't help the swell of emotion rising up in his gut.

"Boss-" He started, and had to stop, because his mouth was dry and he couldn't talk properly. "Boss," And this time, he could get the words out, barely. Greg seemed to sense something was wrong, and quieted immediately. "It's- the bomb- I don't know-" He took a deep breath. "It's not okay. It wasn't on my list; I thought I had covered everything, and- Jesus. I wasn't expecting this."

"What is it? Spike, you've got to talk to me, what are you seeing? Come on, Spike, right now, we need to know, tell me what it is." Greg was talking fast, and Spike could just imagine him waving the rest of the team over to him. "Come on, Spike, talk to me."

"Okay. Um… okay. It's big, like the caller –Grace?- said. And it's sitting about ten feet from one of the structural supports. Um… we can't move it, and Babycakes can't do anything else, so I'm going to have to go in. So, um…

"Spike, you're not telling us what it is. You need to tell us, so we can help you." This time it was Ed talking.

Spike nodded, and realized belatedly that they couldn't see him. "Can you give me a second? I need to think." There was silence over the mics, and he took that as a yes. Slowly, he pushed himself up out of his kneeling position, and leaned against the nearest wall to support himself. God, he didn't want to deal with this. He forced the thought out of his mind. It wouldn't help with anything.

"Alright." He spoke into the headset. "First of all, you can't help me. It's not that I don't want you to, it's that you can't. There is literally nothing you can do. So whatever you do, don't come closer than two blocks. Actually, make it three. Three's better." He shook his head. _Focus_. Then he took a determined breath. And another, because the first one didn't seem to help. "The bomb is what's called a uni-directional bomb. It was just developed in the past few years, I don't know how he could have… this shouldn't be possible."

"Spike, what is it? What's a uni-directional bomb?" Ed's voice was sharp.

"Just what it sounds like. It's a bomb that channels the blast to one direction." He was about to say more, but Sam cut him off.

"That doesn't make sense, Spike. Bombs explode. They don't explode in one direction." He was on edge. "I know, I saw a bunch of stuff when I was in the army-"

Spike interrupted coldly. "You're not the expert here, Sam. I am. And bombs can explode in one direction, it's just really _really_ hard to make them do it. You have to…" He struggled for a way to explain it. The rest of the team waited with baited breath, even though they weren't sure knowing was any better than not knowing. Sometimes, ignorance was bliss. But Spike gathered his thoughts, and continued to talk.

"We're not really seeing the bomb, here. Its' just the plating used to protect it- it has to be really thick to prevent it from exploding in the wrong direction. The bomb itself should be nestled about two feet in. It would be built like a missile, with the front end being the narrowest. The plating would also be the thinnest at that end, probably just a few inches. So when you stuff the bomb with TNT- and there would _lots_ of TNT, guys, tons of it- the explosion would be channeled to that end, and blow out the front of the bomb." He closed his eyes. He didn't want to deal with any of this, but he needed to keep going. He thought of Cabe, who was probably laughing in maniacal glee somewhere, and perversely, the thought gave him strength. He opened his eyes again.

"This is a monster of a bomb, boss. People just don't make them. It's an incredibly delicate process, and by all rights, he should have been blown to hell while he was doing it. He's a lot better than I thought." The team didn't know how to respond to that. Spike went on anyway. "You need _just_ enough casing to keep the sides from rupturing. Too much, and the weight would crush the explosives, and the bomb wouldn't get through anything. But it has to be thick enough to contain the explosion, because if the sides go, you lose most of the power due to the spread. It's really the directional force that does the damage. It's like…" He tried to think of an appropriate metaphor. "It's like a bottle of champagne. If you shake it- that would be loading the TNT- and then just smash the bottle somewhere, it would fizz and you would get your hands wet, and that's just about it. But if you release the catches keeping the top down, that top can go flying really far, really fast. That's how the bomb works." He paused again as he debated whether or not to go on. He decided the team should know.

"I- um… this bomb…" Another breath to keep his composure. "If you're in the line of fire, bye-bye. You wouldn't just be thrown, or get a few pieces of shrapnel to the gut; you'd be incinerated. There wouldn't be a body."

There was complete silence over the mics. No one seemed to know how to react. Finally, it was Greg who spoke. "Would you have to be in that line of fire, Spike?" Spike could barely hear him. "Could you get out of the way?"

Spike didn't answer for a long minute. Then, "I wouldn't be in the blast range, boss." Greg started to talk as his voice returned to normal, telling him that was great, Spike, great, you won't be in danger. Spike almost didn't have the heart to continue. "Boss- boss, listen to me. I wouldn't be in the blast range because that bomb is aimed at the column." Greg stopped talking. "If it goes off, the whole building comes down, and probably the one next to it, too. They could take anything within a two block radius down with them." Spike cursed, but it was almost resigned. "First a frag chain, and then this? Boss, this is-"

He had been about to say too much. And it was too much, but he wasn't about to say that to Greg. He didn't think he could deal with this, but he was sure no one else could. So he was just going to have to try his best.

He tightened his jaw. No use whining about it now. "I'm going to go check it out myself. It's possible there's something I missed- Babycakes can only do so much. I'm going to switch my earpiece-"

"You better not turn that mic off." Ed growled. "I want to hear everything, got it?"

Spike waited till he was done. "As I was _saying_," he responded shortly, "I'm going to switch over to channel four after I've given you what I know. I'd prefer quiet after that, but you guys can listen in if you want." He turned and started down the ramp.

* * *

><p>Spike didn't have to say it was too much for Greg to understand what he meant. He looked at Ed, and he could tell that his team leader knew too. He covered his mic with a hand. "Jesus." He said softly. "Jesus Christ. Spike shouldn't have to deal with this." Ed looked over at him and nodded, but there wasn't anything he could say to that. Spike shouldn't have to deal with it, but he did. That building couldn't come down.<p>

Sam came jogging up, and obviously didn't understand the last sentiment. "Why can't he just get out and let the thing blow? We were going to do that for the one with the Galina thing. This isn't much different, is it?"

Ed sent a withering glare in his direction. "There are still hundreds of people in those buildings, Sam. He you think you can get them out-"

Spike cut in. He was jogging down the first level. "People won't get out on time, Sam. Most of these bombs operate on a timer. It's either that or a suicide mission for the bomber. If it were armed without a delay device, it would go off in seconds. The timer's the only way around that." He paused. "I'm going to have to try to disarm it before it runs out."

Sam looked around, and Raf took his earpiece out. "Guys?" he asked. "Can he disarm it? He's really good."

Ed didn't look at him, but he covered the mic as well. "It depends on how much time Cabe's given us. Spike's good, but…" He trailed off, but everyone knew what he was about to say.

* * *

><p>When Spike reached the bomb, he knew immediately something was wrong. It was definitely uni-directional, but there was an odd structure attached to the top. It almost looked like... He stopped warily, but it didn't seem like a trap, and it wasn't affecting anything at the moment. He stepped cautiously closer, until he was standing close to the bomb. A flash of yellow caught his eye.<p>

He reached out and snagged an envelope from the top of the protuberance. It had his name neatly printed on the front. "Guys," he said into the headset, "He modified this one too. And he left me a note. He actually taped a note to the side of the bomb." He was shocked by the pure audacity of the gesture.

Greg was too, by the tone of his voice. "What does it say, Spike? Read it to us."

"Okay, boss." His voice was shaking again as he unfolded the piece of paper inside. "It says: '_Spike (because that's what your friends call you, right?), I'm so glad you came out for our little adventure. Do you like my toy? I made it just for you- you should be grateful! You probably recognize it, so I'm not going to bore you with the little details, but just know that if it goes off, a lot of people will die_.'" Spike stopped. "He drew a smiley face there, boss."

"A smiley face?" He could hear Greg's disbelief over the comm. There was a violent curse in the background. Spike suspected it was Ed. Greg ignored it and kept going, his voice low. "He's a psychopath. A full-blown, legitimate psychopath." The rest of the team chimed in their horrified agreement. Spike rubbed at his face.

"He keeps going, boss. It's, well… just listen." He started reading again. "'_As much as I love that, though, I'm going to give you a choice. Last time we played, you decided to 'sacrifice yourself' for the good of your team. You're an idiot, but to each his own, I guess. So I'm going to let you do it again. Either you can get out now, and let all those innocent people die, or you can blow yourself up.'" _Spike heard someone hiss, and had to swallow.

"'_I'm going to help you out a little. You see my little addition? It can disarm the big bomb. All you have to do is cut the red wire. Of course, the little one's a bomb too, and it'll kill you- it's not a party until someone dies, I always say. You get to make the choice. You have however much time is left on the clock to decide. Have fun!_

_-D.C._

_P.S. Trick me once, shame on you. Trick me twice, shame on me. You can't get out of this one. I made sure of it._

Spike stopped. He was having a hard time breathing. "That's the end of it." Everything was quiet on the other side of the line. He leaned down to check the clock. "I've got 25 minutes to decide." Another pause. "I'm coming back now. Someone get me a drill, protective gloves, and a blowtorch." He reached up and tore his earpiece out. He didn't want to have to talk to anybody now.

* * *

><p>As Spike ran toward the team, not one of them moved. They all watched his progress silently, because no one knew what to say or do. Finally, it was Raf that turned around, collapsing against the side of the nearest car. He looked like he was about to throw up. Ed went over to him and grasped his shoulder, murmuring to him. Greg couldn't hear what he was saying. He just kept his eyes on Spike.<p>

Finally, the tech reached the perimeter. Raf and Ed had straightened up, and everyone focused on him. Jules looked away, unnerved. Spike's eyes looked dead.

Greg was at his side immediately. Spike turned to him blankly. Greg's breath caught. "Spike, if you think you can't disarm that bomb in time, get out of there. There's no reason-"

"Sorry, boss." Spike interrupted. There was absolutely no inflection in his voice. He didn't sound human. "There's no way we're going to be able to clear the civilians in time. It's priority of life- I'm going to stay there and keep trying until the last second. Either I disarm it, or I cut the wire." He took a breath and headed for the truck. He started pulling what he needed from the back. "I'm going back in."

"Whoa, Spike." Greg was shaking. The rest of the team was at a loss. "You need to think this through. We can-"

"I told you before, boss. There isn't anything you can do. There's only so much time left on the clock. I'm wasting that time by staying here." Spike turned and started jogging toward the building.

"What? You just got here. Spike- Spike! Wait!" Greg called desperately. Spike stopped despite himself.

Greg came up to him and grabbed his arm. Spike tried to tug away, but Greg didn't let go. "Just…" He searched for something to say. "Just don't turn off your mic again, okay? I want to know what's going on."

Spike didn't say anything, and Greg knew that his tech was contemplating refusing because he didn't want his teammates to hear him die. Greg felt the bile rising up in his throat. He swallowed. "Please, Spike. Please."

Finally, Spike spoke. "Okay, boss. But I can't promise I won't turn it off later. That's the most I can give you." Without waiting for an answer, he continued. "I'm heading toward the bomb now. Don't come any closer." And he was gone.

He was quiet, but the residual crackle remained, letting everyone know that he was still there on the other side of the line. Greg was thankful. He wanted to hear as much as possible before-

He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.

* * *

><p>Again, this was a lot of info jammed into a pretty small space. It was also a lot of drama stuffed into the same small space. It's pretty crowded in there, so let me know if everything worked and flowed right. I really do welcome constructive criticism. As always,<p>

Review review!


	19. Chapter 19

So look at that! I got another chapter up on schedule! I'm actually pretty proud of myself. More at the bottom (spoilers!).

_Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?_

-Henry David Thoreau

* * *

><p>Spike was trying determinedly to think about anything but himself and his feelings as he jogged back toward the bomb. But Greg had been right; he was scared. He could feel it, in the way he was trembling, and in the way his steps would stutter every few meters. It was like he was having another one of his dreams, because he was always so helpless in them, and god knows he wasn't feeling any better now. <em>Maybe it is a dream<em>, he tried to tell himself. _Maybe it's just another nightmare, and I'll wake up back in Greg's apartment and I'll make myself some of his tea. Tea is good. It helped last time_. But he was humoring himself, and he knew it. Clearly, it wasn't a dream.

The team's expressions as he left were enough to assure him of that. Even at the last incident, at the school, they had believed from the beginning that he could take care of those mines. They knew it would be hard, but they still had faith in him, and in his ability to do his job and get everyone out safely.

He didn't see any of that faith now. They seemed resigned. No, Spike decided, resigned wasn't the right word. They seemed defeated.

They had tried their best to hide it, of course. He had seen them straighten up when he got to the perimeter. He had seen Raf furtively slipping his earpiece back on, and Sam trying to meet his eyes as if to offer strength. Jules was attempting to act calm, and Ed was just standing there, his expression fixed. But Greg, who was usually so good at separating himself when he needed to do a job- Greg was the one who couldn't quite hide it from him.

It was in the eyes.

Spike knew his boss, and he had only seen him like this one other time. But he hadn't been able to process it then, because Lou had been telling him it was going to be okay, and that had taken up pretty much all of his attention.

But he recognized it now, and this time, Spike knew exactly what it meant. It was in the eyes.

And so, as he got closer and closer to the garage, his stomach sank with every step. He wasn't getting out of this. He knew that he wouldn't be able to disarm this bomb. Maybe if he had hours, days, he could deal with it. But he would bet his life on the fact that twenty-five minutes wasn't enough.

Bet his life. That was funny. His life… get it? Because he didn't need to bet his life (and really, who bets on that kind of thing anyway?). He wouldn't have the chance. All the tables were rigged against him, any number he drew would be the wrong one, and he certainly couldn't just walk out of the casino. So it was a moot point. But still, it was a funny turn of phrase. He didn't know why he hadn't gotten the joke earlier. He would have to explain it to Greg when he got back. He giggled. Oops. He was betting his life, remember? Or not betting it. Either way, he wasn't coming back. Too bad. He wanted to tell the team. Betting his life. Heh heh. Oh, that was a good one. He giggled again. Then he quieted down so he could think of any other last-minute jokes he was missing.

Somewhere deep in his mind, he knew he was going into shock. He had read about this, had heard about what it did to people, but he never thought it would happen to him. He didn't particularly care. He glanced down at his watch. 21 minutes. Not enough time to care.

He wondered if he should call someone. Say his final goodbyes- it would be his note. He hadn't left one of those last time, but he kind of liked the idea.

He contemplated it for a few seconds. No, he thought, there was no point. He didn't have anyone to call. His mom was in Italy, and he didn't have any close friends here, other than his team. And they were standing outside. They were going to watch him die, like everyone watched Lou die. Spike frowned. That wasn't fun. He didn't like that.

But his thoughts drifted off into another direction before he could latch on to it. He wondered if Lou called anybody. He would have had time, while Spike was trying to get everything together. Spike nodded to himself. Yeah, Lou would have called somebody. His parents. He would have called his parents. He would have wanted to talk to them one last time.

Spike wanted to talk to somebody. He wanted to talk to Lou again. But Greg wouldn't like to hear that. He would tell him he was heading in the wrong direction, and look back this way, Spike, because what had he said? You need to learn how to live with your ghosts. To _live_ with your ghosts. That was another funny one, because you can't really live with ghosts, can you? They're dead. That's sort of the point of a ghost. But Greg wouldn't want to hear that. He wouldn't think it was funny.

What _would_ Greg think? He would probably be pretty upset. Ed had told Spike that leaving had destroyed him. That was obviously an exaggeration, but still, he would be upset. Spike hoped he would find someone else to replace him. Maybe Raf. Raf was a good person.

The world suddenly went darker, and Spike realized he had entered the garage. That hadn't taken long. He looked at his watch. Twenty minutes. Well, he had to concentrate now, but maybe he could call Greg at the end. Lou had called his parents, so why shouldn't… anyways, the bomb.

It was still there, sitting in exactly the same place he had left it. Of course it was. And look, he could see the little red wire. He reached for his wire cutters, and tossed them around in his hands for a little bit. But no, he would at least see what else he could do in the time he had left. Eighteen minutes. Greg would want that.

He had never actually seen a uni-directional bomb, so he was a little bit intrigued as he circled it. It was bigger than it had looked on paper. And more intimidating. But you couldn't really put something like that onto paper. And plus, Spike supposed, it probably wasn't only the bomb that was intimidating. He had left the note with the team, but he remembered what it said. That guy was crazy.

That was probably the hardest pill to swallow. Cabe had beaten him. He was better than him. That hurt.

He unscrewed the top panel, just to make sure that Cabe was right about not being able to get out of this. No luck. There were too many wires floating around in too small a space for Babycakes to be able to help, and if he touched any of them except the red one, he was going to blow the whole thing. Oh well. He hadn't expected anything different.

* * *

><p>"Greg? Greg, come on, sit down. Please." Ed was tugging on Greg's sleeve. "You look like you're about to collapse. You need to sit down. Here, we can go over to the car-" He tugged a little bit harder, and Greg whirled around.<p>

"Get away from me, Ed. Don't touch me." He roughly pulled away. "You need to back off." His voice was flat. "I don't want you here."

Ed's eyes flashed, and suddenly, he was right in Greg's face. "You know what? I don't care what you want. I'm here, and you're just going to have to deal with it." He grabbed Greg's shoulders and pulled him behind a truck, tearing off his earpiece as he went. Greg slowly took his out too, but his expression was stony. Ed didn't care.

"You need to pull yourself together. Now. I know Spike's in there, and I know that it's killing you. But have you even looked at the rest of the team? It's killing all of us." He let go of Greg, but didn't break eye contact. "We heard everything you heard. And everybody knows what's probably going to happen in there."

Ed closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "There's nothing we can do, Greg. I wish _so much_ that there was, but we're stuck here. And so the team needs you. They're not going to be able to get through this on their own, and I can only do so much. It has to be you. We need you here, Greg. Please. Spike would want that."

Without any warning, Greg grabbed him by the vest and slammed him into the side of the car. "We don't know what Spike wants, Ed!" He hissed. "We don't know because he's-" He waved his hand in the direction of the building. "He's-" Slowly, all the fight drained out of him and his grip on Ed weakened. "He's- Ed, he's going to… I just can't…"

Ed waited for him to finish, and then gently pried Greg's hands off the vest. Greg let it happen, and didn't protest when Ed turned back around to lean him against the car. "I know, Greg." He said simply. "But that doesn't change anything about what I said."

Greg nodded, almost imperceptibly. "Okay." He said weakly. His eyes were closed. "Give me a minute. I'll be right there." Ed didn't move, and Greg opened his eyes. "I promise, Ed. I just need a moment to myself."

Ed looked down at him, and then pressed his lips together. "Just a moment, Greg. Or I'm coming to get you again." He stayed for a second longer before turning back to the team and leaving Greg to his thoughts.

* * *

><p>Eleven minutes, Spike saw as he looked down again disinterestedly. Not a lot of time. But then again, he really only needed a few seconds for what he was going to do. It was like in one of those movies, the action ones that play over and over again on TV in the middle of a Saturday night. He imagined the deep announcer's voice. <em>Eleven minutes to live. Will our hero find a way out in time<em>? He giggled. That made him the hero. He wasn't a hero. Maybe in a movie he could be a hero. That would be cool. The only difference was, the heroes in the movies always live. Spike didn't think he was going to be so lucky.

He tapped out a meaningless rhythm on the side of the bomb. Maybe it was time for that call now. It would be a neat way to wrap things up. Like a little bow on top of a birthday present. Present. Isn't that what Cabe had called the bomb? Okay, maybe a bow wasn't the best imagery. But Spike was sure he could find something else.

So, the call. It could wait a few minutes, he decided. He had time.

* * *

><p>Greg checked his watch. Seven minutes. They were running out of time.<p>

* * *

><p>Spike looked around for a place to sit. He didn't want to move too far away, but he wasn't interested in standing, and he figured now was the time to do what he wanted. So he plopped down right next to the bomb and curled his legs under himself like a child. Criss-cross applesauce. He hadn't heard that one since he was six.<p>

The thought fluttered off, and he began idly playing with some of the dust under the bomb. He was drawing a particularly large curlicue when a flash of red distracted him. It was the timer- five minutes. Probably time to make that phone call. Well, it wasn't really a phone call, but close enough.

He reached up to his earpiece. "Boss?"

Greg's response was immediate, but his voice cracked as he spoke. "Yeah, Spike? Do you have anything for us?"

"Sorry, boss. Nothing I can do but cut the wire."

Greg didn't say anything, but Spike could hear him breathing heavily over the phone. The rest of the team was probably on the line too. Spike felt bad that they had to listen to this.

He kept going, because none of them seemed to want to say anything. "It's okay though. It really is. I'm not scared." And as he said it, he realized how true it was. "Don't worry about me, boss. I don't have any regrets."

"Spike, no…" Greg's voice was so thick with emotion it was hard to make out the words. Spike wondered if he was crying. He hoped not.

"It's okay." He repeated. "You know what I told my dad last year? I told him that everyone dies, and you just have to make sure that it counts. Maybe I thought I would have a little more time, but I'm making sure this means something. And that's the most I can do." He was still swirling the dust around on the ground. It looked almost white against the concrete. "I'm just glad that you guys are here with me…"

Wait. The dust… something was wrong with the dust. Dust was not supposed to be white. Now that he thought about it, there shouldn't have been any dust there in the first place. Not with the bomb. His heart started beating faster, and he brought his fingers up to his nose.

Then he started to laugh.

* * *

><p>Greg was holding the side of the car in a death grip, trying to keep himself upright. Spike was saying something to him, something about not having any regrets, but the words just washed over him because he didn't want to hear this, not now, not ever, because it meant that Spike was dead. Until that point, he had held onto the slightest modicum of hope that the tech would find a way out, that he would miraculously find the right combination of wires to cut, and he would defuse both bombs and nothing would happen and he could walk out of there safely. But Spike was still talking.<p>

"…I'm making sure this means something. And that's the most I can do." His voice sounded distorted over the headsets, and the thought that Spike deserved better than this in his last moments flashed through Greg's head. "I'm just glad that you guys are here with me…"

His voice trailed off, and Greg knew that this was it, that he was going to cut the wire. He wanted to turn his headset off, to drown out the sounds of the explosion, but he owed it to Spike to stay there to the end. So he waited, and braced himself.

And then the laughter started. Greg remained stock still, trying to absorb this latest development. None of the others spoke, and he could tell they were as shocked as he was, but Spike kept laughing. And laughing. It was Ed who finally snapped out of his disbelief enough to speak.

"Spike, what is it? What's the matter?"

And now Spike could barely get the words out, but he tried anyways. "It's Cabe…" And he had to wait a few seconds before he was able to speak again. "He's a psychopath…and… he wants a signature. He wants a signature!" When no one got the joke, he just laughed even harder. "A signature! He used RDX again… because he wants a signature!" He couldn't breath through his hysteria. "RDX is more powerful than TNT… It'll make a bigger boom! Boom! Boom!" And then he really couldn't talk, and the team just heard his failing attempts to inhale.

Two minutes.

Ed looked at Greg, his expression hard. "I'm going in." Greg started to say something, but Ed cut him off. "He's lost it, Greg, and someone needs to cut that wire. I'm going in." But as he turned toward the garage entrance, he was greeted by the sight of Spike stumbling up the incline.

The tech was doubled over, holding his stomach and trying to run at the same time. He was wheezing through the mic, and Greg really did think he'd lost it. But when Ed started to move forward, Spike found his voice again. "Ed, don't! You don't… get it…" He was shaking, but he wasn't laughing anymore. "It's funny… because… he used RDX…" He pitched forward a few more meters. He was almost a block away from the garage. "It's funny…"

Then he couldn't keep it up, and lurched sideways, hitting the ground hard. They heard the whump as all the air was pushed from his lungs, and then he was groaning too. Ed started forward again.

"No, Ed!" Spike's voice was desperate, and he struggled up to his hands and knees. "Don't!" He was still shaking. "You can't… you can't come any closer." Greg couldn't tell if he was laughing, or crying, or both. Ed stopped despite himself.

"Spike, what are you playing at?" He murmured under his breath.

Greg looked down at his watch again. Fifty seconds.

Spike had made it to his feet, but was swaying dangerously as he tried to come closer. He made it about ten meters before collapsing again. This time, he didn't even try to get up.

"Spike! Spike, what are you doing?" Greg was shouting through the headset. "Talk to me, Spike!" There were less than thirty seconds left on the clock.

Spike rolled over onto his back. "He made sure… he made sure I couldn't defuse it, boss." It still didn't sound like he could breathe. "He made sure…"

He was lying bonelessly on the asphalt, and paused for what seemed like an eternity before he went on. "But he messed up… boss… I beat him." A shudder ran through his body.

"RDX... it'll break the bottle. Of champagne, boss... the bottle." Another shudder.

Ten seconds.

Spike smiled. "I'm going to let it blow." He made no effort to get up.

This time it was Greg who tried to push toward him. But Ed had grabbed him by the arm and was pulling him roughly behind the nearest truck. "Greg, come on! Five seconds- get down!" As the team knelt down and covered their heads, Greg got one last glimpse of Spike. He had raised his hands in the air like he was conducting his very own symphony, and god, what was-

Ed tugged his head down. "Two- one-"

The explosion was deafening. It was deafening, but it took Greg a second to realize it wasn't deafening in the way it would be if a building were coming down. Still, there was an ominous rumble and a series of thumps and screeches that sounded like concrete bouncing along on asphalt.

After a few seconds, the sounds and the shaking had stopped, and the team was rounding the sides of the car in an instant. Sure enough, the building was still standing, although the entrance to the garage had caved in and there were huge chunks of concrete littering the streets near the building.

Spike was lying in the same place they had left him. None of the debris had made quite that far, but a fine cloud of dust was hanging over the area, coating everything it touched in a chalk-like film. Greg couldn't tell whether Spike was breathing or not.

Raf got there first, and was immediately down on his knees. Greg saw him sag in relief before he heard the words. "He's okay! Guys, he's okay!"

There was a general shaky breath as everyone processed the news, and then they were at his side as well. Spike's eyes were open, and other than a gash on his forehead, he seemed completely unharmed. Sam was grinning broadly. "Jeez, Spike, that's the second time in a month you've gotten yourself blown up- people are going to start to talk!"

But Spike, instead of smiling or joking back, just rolled away and curled in on himself. He was shaking again.

Sam's smile faltered. "Spike? Are you hurt? Come on-"

A slight pressure on his arm cut him off. "He's not hurt, Sam." Greg said softly. Then to the team, "Can you give us a little time, guys? He just needs some space."

Everyone nodded and backed off nervously, not knowing what was going on. Ed led them back over to the cars. Greg just turned around and got on his knees by Spike.

"Spike?" He said quietly. He laid a hand on his Spike's shoulder. "Spike, I know. Don't worry, it's okay, you're going to be fine now." He kept up the stream of platitudes and waited until Spike was ready to talk.

"Boss…" He almost didn't hear it.

"Yeah, Spike?"

"I was so sure…" His voice broke. "I was so sure in there… and I wasn't scared, I was ready, and I don't understand why this is happening now…" His shaking grew more pronounced.

"I know, Spike. It's okay, it's normal. You've been in shock, you're still in shock, but it'll pass, Spike, I promise, and you're going to be just fine. Don't worry. You just take your time, we can wait, you'll be okay." And although the shaking didn't stop, he just kept murmuring and kept the pressure on his shoulder, and eventually Spike relaxed enough to roll back over.

Greg smiled gently and wiped some of the blood off the tech's face. "See, Spike? You're okay. Don't worry. Come on; let's head over to the car so we can clean you up some. Then we're going home, and you can punch all the walls you want. Remember?"

Spike nodded weakly. "Thanks, boss. For today and all."

"That's what I'm here for, Spike. You know that. Now look, the team's waiting for us…" And they were, patiently, and they all looked so happy to see him, and Spike thought for the millionth time that he didn't deserve this. But that didn't stop the smile that was welling up inside him, and he decided yet again that he was just going to be selfish and bask in it. Today, he needed that.

* * *

><p>Spike makes it out once again! I wrote this chapter fast so I could get it up in time, so there may be some typos- sorry for that. But Spike is okay, and that's the most important thing. Although, you know what they say about bad things happening in threes... and that's all I'm going to say. Please, please, review! I love it when you do (see my little rhyme there? That is what's called genius.)!<p>

Review review!


	20. Chapter 20

Look at that. I got another chapter up on time- I'm on a roll. In this one, not much happens in the way of action, but I think that's okay, considering what happened last time. Also, it's a bit of a character study. You'll see what I mean. Enjoy!

_Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?_

-Henry David Thoreau

* * *

><p>"So, you're telling me that Cabe spent weeks building a bomb, made sure that even Spike couldn't defuse it, and then stuffed with too many explosives? Sorry, but doesn't even sound plausible to me. He's smarter than that."<p>

The team was sitting around the briefing table, slowly unraveling the events from the day before. Spike was looking a little worse for wear- Greg had forced him to go to the hospital, and the doctors told him that they wouldn't let him out of the building without at least eight stitches. So he had a conspicuous bandage fastened above his right eye, and he was shooting his boss the occasional dark look, but other than that, was perfectly fine and functional. Raf was sticking close to his side, as if he didn't trust Spike to stay out of trouble without constant supervision.

Greg turned his attention to Sam, who had been talking. "It's just like letting Spike know beforehand where he might plant them. It doesn't benefit him, but he wants the attention, and the confidence that he's the best. Here, he knew Spike couldn't defuse it in the timeframe he set, so he focused on the attention side of things. He didn't just want to blow up that building."

Jules finished for him. "He wanted people to know that it was _him_ that blew up that building."

"Right." Greg nodded. "The RDX was his way of doing that. It was supposed to be a flourish, a signature- something that would identify him and his work. But obviously, he miscalculated." He turned to Spike and raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah. He miscalculated." Spike said. "Actually, it would have made sense what he did. See, the strength of a bomb is measured by how much TNT it would need to make the same size explosion. And he put the correct equivalent- he was right in all the measurements. The thing is…"

He trailed off, and the team looked at him expectantly. "Do you remember what I told you about RDX at the school? When I found it in those mines?"

"That it was rare?" Raf asked.

"Well, that too, but I meant about the way it detonates." Spike shifted in his seat. "I said it would increase the blast radius, but decrease the range of the shrapnel. That's where Cabe messed up. The blast radius- the explosion was too concentrated, and the plating around the bomb couldn't take it. So…" He ducked his head. "The champagne thing. It was the bottle, not the cap."

There was a long silence. "Guys… about yesterday. I, um, I don't know why I was- I mean, the whole breaking down thing- sorry."

"Whoa, Spike." Ed leaned forward in his chair. "There's nothing to be sorry about. You recognized his mistake, you got out of there in time, and you stopped me from going in and getting myself killed. I'd say you did everything right. Even if your methods were somewhat unconventional." He grinned.

Sam leapt in. "Yeah, and that wasn't even close to the weirdest reaction I've seen to pressure. Man, when I was in the army, there was this one guy…" And he started telling a story about mistaken identities and armored vehicles and ducks that didn't make any sense, but had the desired effect. Spike was slowly relaxing, getting involved, and even started to laugh about five minutes in. When Sam paused to take a breath, he shot a glance over at Greg, who nodded appreciatively. The younger man smiled and launched straight into the next part of the story. Greg was pretty sure he was just making it up now, but didn't care as long as it kept Spike occupied.

Ed leaned over and spoke quietly into his ear, taking care not to distract from the story. "Is he okay, Greg? He was right, it was a breakdown, and we need to make sure it won't have any long-term effects."

Greg didn't stop watching the group, but nodded. "Yeah, I think he is okay. You have to give it to him- he was going to die yesterday, and he knew it. And not only that, it's the second time in a month it's happened. I'm impressed he's functioning as well as he is, actually- most other people wouldn't be." Spike was grinning as Sam gesticulated wildly. "See? He's okay, Eddie. Don't worry about it."

Ed sat back. "Alright, Greg. I trust you. And I trust Spike. I just want to make sure nothing happens to him, that's all. He means a lot to all of us." He sighed. "He's a special kid."

Greg smiled. "Don't let Spike hear you saying that, Ed. He'll think you've gone soft." When Ed started to protest, he just pushed himself away from the table and stood up. "It's okay. Everyone loves a softy. And by the way, I know about that baby toy you keep in your bag. Pink's a good color for you, Eddie. You should try to coordinate your outfits. I know a nice-"

The team was jerked out of Sam's narrative by the sound of a crash. They whipped their heads around, only to find Ed chucking pencils with deadly accuracy at a fleeing Greg. As the team leader leapt up to pursue, he pinned Sam with the Glare of Death. "I'm coming for you, Sam." He growled as he ran out of the room.

Sam just looked around, bewildered. "What did I do?"

* * *

><p>Two days later, the good atmosphere had not dissipated. Sam and Jules were as lovey-dovey as ever, and Spike and Raf spent a good portion of their time huddled together with their heads down. Greg was starting to fear for the relative safety of the area, and made a mental note to ask Holleran to see if they could fireproof the locker room.<p>

But most of Spike's efforts were focused on the new arrival. With the loss of Babycakes to the explosion, he had gone into a period of mourning, wearing all black to work and moping whenever he saw a teammate coming. He had gone so far as to force them to attend a funeral (closed casket, of course) in honor of the deceased. Even Ed had been dragged into it, and sat through the lengthy eulogy with bad grace.

The second the robot's replacement got there, however, the tech was once again a bundle of energy. He had christened the new member of the team Sugarlumps, much to the dismay of everyone involved, and when Greg tried to explain exactly why they couldn't show up in a high-pressure situation with a piece of equipment called Sugarlumps, he had shot his boss such a look of contempt that Greg had backed off immediately. You just didn't mess with Spike's ladies.

* * *

><p>And although he was dubious about the team's new image, Greg was happy. Spike had started talking to his old super about getting his place back, but in the meantime, was still staying with Greg. He was even attempting to teach him how to cook something that tasted good, and had been patiently guiding him through the hoops and hurdles of the kitchen.<p>

On one such night, they were busy chopping vegetables when Spike asked, out of the blue, what Greg's life had been like before he became a cop. Greg dropped his knife in surprise, and as he bent down to pick it up, Spike backtracked quickly.

"Sorry, boss, I didn't mean to intrude, that's your personal business, and you don't have to tell me-"

"No, no, Spike, it's okay." Greg said as he straightened up. He set the knife down on the cutting board. "I'll tell you. But out of curiosity, what makes you ask?"

Spike's ears were burning. "Well, it's stupid, but you seem to know so much about us, and it just occurred to me that I don't know anything about you. Outside the job, I mean. But really, you don't have to-"

"Spike. It's okay; it's not stupid. Don't worry." He gestured to the one of the chairs. "Do you mind if I… it's kind of a long story."

Spike nodded mutely, and joined him at the table. He still seemed embarrassed, but relaxed a little when Greg smiled at him. The latter was quiet for a minute as he contemplated what to say.

Eventually, he just decided to start from the beginning. "I was a quiet kid, I guess." He said softly. "Almost introverted. I liked school a lot, and I did well, but I don't think the teachers ever noticed me. I never knew how to get their attention- I was really bad at communicating with people." He chuckled at Spike's expression. "It's true. I was." He leaned back in his chair. "My mom died when I was really young, and after that, I guess I just didn't find a reason to talk much." He smiled fondly. "She was great. I still remember her making chocolate chip cookies in the afternoon when I would get home from school, and she would sing as she worked. She had a terrible voice. I mean, truly terrible, but it never stopped her, and she always seemed so happy when she sang. So I liked it when she did." He laughed, but he paused again before continuing, and when he did, his voice was a little lower.

"When I was about six, she walked into the wrong convenience store at the wrong time, and got caught up in a robbery in progress. She never made it home. Spike- it's okay." He said when Spike opened his mouth, aghast. "I made peace with it a long time ago. I like remembering her." He smiled again.

"My dad loved her so much. He doted on her, and when she died, it hit him hard. For a long time, he didn't go out, he barely ate, and I never saw him sleep. He was a mess. But eventually he pulled himself together, and suddenly, all his focus was on me."

"At first I loved it. He wasn't the only one that was hurting, and so it felt nice when he started paying attention to me. I thought it was a sign that he loved me just as much as he had loved her, and he was finally showing it."

His expression grew distant. "But like I told you, I was quiet. Some of the other kids at school thought that that was as good a reason as any other to pick fights with me. I would come home with a black eye here, a sprained wrist there, and my dad noticed. He told me that I should fight back, man up, that sort of thing, but I hated violence and never wanted to go there. And so he got mad. Everything I did was suddenly wrong, and he wouldn't tolerate anything less than perfect."

Spike began to see where this was going, and was growing paler and paler.

"He was beyond strict- I had to be home by exactly four every day, had to have my homework done by five, et cetera, et cetera. If I didn't, I would get sent to bed without dinner, not get breakfast, other things like that. And then one day, I came home really late. One of the other kids had hidden my backpack in the woods, and I spent hours looking for it. By the time I finally got back, it was almost nine, and he just lost it. He broke my arm."

Spike was white as a sheet, horrified. "Boss…"

"It's fine, Spike. It's all in the past, and you deserve to know." Greg was still remarkably calm, and didn't even blink as he continued.

"I was twelve when it happened. I told the school nurse that I had tripped down the stairs. I don't know if she believed me or not, but she was nicer to me after that.

"Anyway, beyond that first incident, it was manageable most of the time. But it was always worse after I came home after another fight- well, they weren't really fights, as they were pretty one sided- but he was bad after them.

"I tried not to get into as much trouble, but the other kids wouldn't leave me alone, and I wasn't going to hit back. That was a line I wouldn't cross, no matter what the consequences. So I learned how to negotiate with them."

"After a couple of years, I got really good at it. For the first time in my life, other people liked me, even trusted me. I could convince pretty much anyone to do pretty much anything.

"Except for my dad. He never wanted to listen, no matter how much I tried to reason with him. I worked at it harder and harder, but nothing got better.

"When I was sixteen, he had a particularly bad day, and for the first time ever, I stood up to him. I barely made it out of the house, and a neighbor found me and drove me to a hospital. I had to stay there a long time. A doctor got suspicious and notified the police- there was plenty of evidence, and they brought my dad in immediately. They were so good to me at the station; everyone went above and beyond to help me, and that was when I decided what I wanted to do with the rest of my life."

"My dad went to jail and died a few years later, and I never really looked back." He smiled softly at Spike. "So, that's my story. I think you know the rest of it, and here I am."

Spike's hands were trembling. "Boss, I'm so sorry, I never should have brought it up, and god, I'm sorry-"

"Spike, stop. I'm serious- stop." He waited for Spike to stop talking. "If I didn't think you should hear it, I wouldn't have told you. It's true, what you said about not knowing anything about me. And this has to go both ways. You've put yourself out there for me, and it's only fair that I do the same for you."

Spike was shaking his head vehemently. "No, boss, it's not the same, you don't ever have to tell me anything you don't want to. I trust you. Completely."

"And I trust you, Spike. Don't worry." Greg smiled crookedly. "Plus, this has been good for me." Spike looked up, confused, and he clarified. "Ed knows bits and pieces, but I've never really told anybody the full story. No one's ever asked. So it's good to talk about it- get it off my chest. And honestly, it doesn't bother me anymore. It's over, and I've got a new family in the team. I can't ask for anything better."

Spike truly didn't know what to say. Finally, he got his wits together, at least to a certain extent. "You know…" he started, and then faltered. Greg waited patiently. "I don't think I've ever met someone like you, boss. Ever."

Greg raised his eyebrows. "Okay, I'll take that as a good thing-"

"No, of course." Spike interjected hurriedly. "It is, of course it is." His ears started to turn red again. "This is going to sound cliché and really dumb, but you're… you're wise. I don't know any other word for it. And you're a really, really good person. The best. I just think I should get it out there." Now the blush had reached his cheeks, but he kept looking determinedly at his boss. "I believe that, boss, I really do."

Greg watched him for a minute, his eyes hooded. Then, slowly, he stood up, and Spike followed nervously. "Thank you, Spike." He said quietly. "I suspect that means more to me than you'll ever know. So thank you." When neither of them spoke for a minute, Greg turned and reached for his knife, starting in again on the pepper he had been working on.

"Come on, bud. A lot more vegetables to go before we can start cooking. Better get them done so we can eat before midnight." Spike joined him quietly, and they worked in a comfortable silence for a long time. It was going to be okay, Spike decided. Everything was going to be okay.

* * *

><p>This might be a little AU, and if it is, sorry. But it seems to me that no one ever focuses on what makes Greg who he is. I mean, we all know about his drinking, and Dean, but nothing beyond that, really. It's bothered me, and I've been trying to work this into the story for a long time, but it just never fit before now. I've always thought his childhood would have had to be a hard one, and he never mentions his family, so I thought this might fit. Let me know if you think otherwise, please. As always, I love the constructive criticism. Thanks so much for all the feedback I've been getting- It really motivates me to get things up faster. :)<p>

Review review!


	21. Chapter 21

Hey everyone! I don't too much to say about this chapter, but I'll talk a little more at the bottom. Reviews are always nice!

_Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?_

-Henry David Thoreau

* * *

><p>"Raf, is it okay that- well, that I wouldn't mind if someone died?" Spike asked suddenly, turning around to face his friend. They were both sitting together at the briefing table, and before Spike had spoken, neither one had talked for fifteen minutes. Snowflakes were gently drifting past the windows, and the SRU was uncharacteristically silent. It was as if the white blanket outside was somehow serving to muffle the sounds inside.<p>

Raf tore his eyes from the peaceful scene to look at Spike. "I don't know, Spike." He said thoughtfully. "Do you want this person to die, or would you just not mind if it happened? Because that's an important distinction to make."

Spike didn't answer for a moment. "I think… I just wouldn't mind." His brows furrowed. "But I also think that if a situation forced me to pull the trigger, I wouldn't feel bad afterwards. Or at least, I wouldn't regret it." He glanced down at his hands. "Is that wrong? I almost feel like I'm a bad person for thinking it."

"No, Spike." Raf shook his head. "You're not a bad person. Anybody can see that." He paused as he contemplated what to say next. "Killing someone in the line of duty sometimes happens. It can be necessary. And while we always want to resolve a situation peacefully, that doesn't necessarily mean that you have to regret pulling the trigger. What matters is that it's a last resort. And most of all, that you don't enjoy it."

Spike nodded, deep in thought. "Yeah, I guess I can see that. It's just… it's just hard, you know? There are people out there…" He trailed off. Raf just looked at him understandingly.

"It's Cabe, isn't it?"

It had been three weeks since the garage bomb incident. Spike's behavior hadn't changed, but it was moments like these that betrayed how much he was affected. Raf understood- at least, as much as he was able.

Spike's answer to the question came slowly. "Yeah, Raf. It's Cabe. I was just wondering what would happen if we caught up to him. I don't think I want him to die, but I hate him so much. So much, Raf. It seems like he's always one step ahead of us, just dancing around." He had hunkered down in his seat, and Raf suddenly realized how well Spike had been pretending. He really wasn't fine, was he?

Spike squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm sorry, Raf, you don't want to hear this. I'm okay, I'll just-"

"Spike." Raf said gently. "I do want to hear this. You need to say it, to put it out there. It's okay not to be fine. Trust me, I know." When Spike didn't respond immediately, he continued. "You're my friend, Spike, and I want you to know that the boss isn't the only one you can talk to. I'm here to listen, and to help if I can."

Spike didn't open his eyes, but Raf waited. If there was one thing he knew how to be, it was patient. So when the tech finally opened his mouth, he was ready.

"I have dreams. Every night." Spike still didn't look up, and his voice was low. "About him, about what might have happened, about what did happen. Every night when I go to sleep, I know what's coming. And I just want it to stop, and I think the only way for that to happen is for this- for this _game_ to end. I want it to end, Raf. More than anything, I think. I can't just keep living in constant fear of what he's going to do next."

Raf nodded slowly. "I know, Spike. The rest of us feel the same way, but we understand that it's your burden to bear. Just know that any member of this team wouldn't hesitate for one second to take that burden away from you if we could. So no matter what happens out there, when we find him, or when he makes the next move, we'll be there with you. We're not going to let you face this alone." He reached over to pat Spike on the shoulder. "It's not enough, but it's the most we can give you."

Spike looked at the hand on his shoulder, and then back at Raf. "Thanks." He said quietly. "It means a lot to me."

"Don't worry about it. Now, I was just looking at Sugarlumps, and I have no idea what this part is for…"

* * *

><p>The next day, Greg called a meeting to discuss the Cabe case. The team shuffled into the room, tense and on edge, but Greg just motioned for them all to sit down.<p>

"It's okay," He was saying. "There's nothing wrong, I just want to update you on the progress we're making, maybe see if any of you have any ideas. At this point, we have a better grasp on his character than anyone else out there." And by 'we', of course, Greg meant Spike. No one was fooled.

Nevertheless, Spike didn't seem particularly bothered. He lounged back in his seat, and waited for the others to get settled. Raf would have said he was totally at ease, but the conversation from the day previous flashed through his mind. And once he looked for it, he could see the tension lines around his eyes, could see the slightest draw of his mouth, but it was almost completely unnoticeable. Raf was impressed.

But Greg could see it too, and made a note to check up on it later. Because now, everyone was sitting down and waiting not so patiently for him to begin. He cleared his throat.

"So, as of now, we don't have much concrete knowledge of where he is or what he's up to, and that's bad. But we're looking, crosschecking friends, colleagues, everything. We hope we'll find something soon."

He paused. "What we do have is a history. And it's… not pretty. This guy is a mess."

Ed spoke up, his eyes narrowed. "He would have to be, with what he's done. A school? That's beyond wrong."

"I know, Ed. It is. Do you guys remember what the army guy –Reiden- told us there? How he was expelled for locking some kids in a room with a smoke bomb?" Everyone nodded.

"That wasn't where it started. When he was eight, he watched his mother die in a robbery gone wrong." He ignored the shocked look Spike sent in his direction. He had noticed too. "When they had the perp in handcuffs outside the house, little Danny went after him with a knife. Severed the nerves in one of the guy's arms.

"Nothing happened to him, though, because everyone said it was the shock talking, and of course he would be upset over losing his mother in such a tragedy. So he was pushed off into a foster home, and that's when he started at Reiden's school. You know what happened there."

The team kept staring at him, their expressions fixed. After what Cabe had done, they had no desire to sympathize with him. Greg went on.

"Anyway, he got into another middle school, and didn't have any more problems there- at least, none that showed up on paper. In fact, he kept most of what he did out of the official records after that. It took some time to dig up anything of substance, but…"

"But what, boss? What did he do?" Spike almost looked like he didn't want to ask the question. But he needed to know.

"Well… supposedly, he had a sort of feud with another student. They hated each other. In their last year of high school, one of the teachers we talked to said they had a pretty intense fight. A few weeks after that, there was a gas explosion at the other kid's house- no survivors. The police suspected foul play, and even brought Cabe in for questioning, but they couldn't pin anything on him. Since he was a minor, it didn't even show up in his records."

"God." Said Sam. "He's insane."

Spike shook his head, and Greg deferred to him. "He's probably not, Sam. Psychopathic, yes. Insane? I'm not so sure. Look at everything he's done. Beyond that incident with the knife, it's all been… precise. Calculated. He's planning these things, not just jumping into them on a whim. He's in full control of his faculties."

He considered. "That's probably what sent him into demining, too. He wouldn't have wanted to be military- it's too confining for him, too regimented. But he still wanted to learn about bombs, and how they work, and how they kill people, and there's nothing better for that than mines." He looked at Greg. "You said he took a load of shrapnel to the gut?" He asked. The older man nodded, and Spike went on.

"That was probably the first time he didn't have total control over the situation. He was sent home, and he sued. It's less conspicuous that blowing up anybody who was involved.

"But when that didn't work, he probably decided to screw inconspicuous. He wanted control again. That's why he set those mines at the school. For control."

Raf's eyes widened in understanding. "_That's_ why he's so mad at you. I never really got it before, but it makes sense. He would have to be the best to maintain that feeling."

Greg was still looking at Spike. "Does any of this help you, Spike? Is the profile enough tell you anything else about the bombs?"

Spike thought about it. "I would say no, but the garage thing breaks his pattern. The signature bit, I understand. It's actually pretty common- it's how most serial killers are caught. They want recognition for their work. What I don't get is why he tried to build a uni-directional bomb.

"It's incredibly impressive that he was able to do it, true, but I think he sacrificed a little of his control for that 'wow' factor. He didn't know the bomb well enough to realize what RDX would do to it. And that confuses me. If it were me- hypothetically, of course- but if it were me, I would have stuck to something a little safer, within my comfort zone. I would want to know everything about it before I tried to blow up a building with it. Or a person, I guess, but that wasn't really the same bomb." He ignored the slightly green tinge of Jules' face.

"Anyway, something has changed. I don't know what it is." He started to say something else, but closed his mouth.

Greg caught it. "You may not know what it is, Spike, but I think you have a pretty good guess. What is it?"

"Don't worry; it's not important, it doesn't really affect the investi-"

"Spike. Tell us. Now." Greg's tone brooked no argument.

"Um… well, this may sound crazy, but I think it might be me. I think he's infatuated with me- not that way, Sam- and it's affecting his judgment. He's so determined to prove me wrong that he's making mistakes."

"What do you mean, 'prove you wrong'? You haven't _done_ anything." Jules' voice was incredulous.

"To him, I have. Now this is just a theory," He said uncertainly, "But I think that's why he gave me the option of killing myself in the garage. He didn't have to, because the bomb would have killed me anyway- well, as far as he knew- but he gave me the choice. And that's important. He wanted me to die knowing that he had beaten _me_. Not the system, not the people in those buildings, but me. He didn't care as much about the buildings going down as he did killing me.

"So this isn't about racking up casualties any more. It's about winning, it's about proving that he's better than me. He'll still put the bombs where he knows I have to defuse them; I'm guessing big population centers, that sort of thing. But it isn't about that anymore. And I think that's why he's slipping up. He's sacrificing control over the big picture for control over me."

"The good news is, it's almost certain to get him caught eventually. In fact, he'll probably want to be as close as possible to the next one, to watch my defeat. The bad news is, there's definitely going to be a next one, unless we get a big break in the case before then. Which means I'll have to defuse another bomb. And I have absolutely no idea what to expect. And," He tacked on, "It'll probably be soon. So… yeah."

Silence greeted his announcement. No one seemed to know what to say, and Spike was reminded of the last time he had given a speech like this, after the mines. Now that wasn't a fun parallel to make.

As if sensing his thoughts, Ed spoke up. "This is terrible, Spike, but I've got to say, you're holding up much better than last time. It's impressive."

Spike shrugged. "I guess I've learned something in the last month. There's no use killing myself over it, because I'm just going to have to deal with it anyway. There's caution, and then there's crazy. I'd rather not cross that line again. Whatever may be, may be."

"That's a good philosophy, Spike." Ed was nodding. Greg, however, was just looking at him, his expression unreadable. Spike swallowed.

Ed was getting everybody up and herding them out. Shift was over in five minutes. When Spike tried to follow, though, Greg laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Just a minute, Spike." Spike paused for a second, apprehensive, but turned around to face his boss. He still couldn't decipher the look on his face.

"Ed was right, Spike. You are holding up much better than last time."

"Well, like I said, boss-"

"I heard you, but I don't know if I believe you. I don't know how to feel about this, Spike. About your reactions."

Spike eye's narrowed. "You think I should be worried, boss? Be freaking out? Well guess what, I-"

"Those aren't the words you used a few minutes ago."

Spike shut up. "What?"

Greg didn't budge. "Those aren't the words you used a few minutes ago, Spike. You didn't say there's no use 'freaking out.' That's not what you said. You said there's no use 'killing yourself over it.' And I'm worried."

Spike was silent for a moment, stunned. He couldn't believe Greg was using this against him now. Suddenly, he was on the offensive. "You think I'm using this as a suicide attempt, boss?" He sneered. "Well, it's good to know you think so highly of me; I guess my professionalism isn't quite up to snuff. Sure, I'll go out on a job and screw everybody else, because what do I care about the team? Forget my track record. Forget that I've never _once_ let you down." Lou's face flashed through his mind, but he viciously shoved it aside." It doesn't matter much anyway, I suppose. Not to you."

Greg calmly waited for him to finish. "That's not what I said, Spike."

"Bullshit. That's what you meant."

"No, it's not." When Spike didn't immediately throw his words back into his face, he continued.

"I know you would never give your job anything but your best effort. I know you, Spike, and I would never accuse you of that."

"Oh yeah? Then what _did_ you mean, boss? Because you've said it before, you know." He imitated Greg. "'I can't believe you, Spike. I'm not putting _my_ life on the line every day in some misguided suicide attempt.' Is that not what you were saying then?" He mocked. "Because it seemed to me that you were making yourself pretty clear. I'd be careful, boss, because you're sending conflicting messages this way."

Greg tried to put a hand on his shoulder, but Spike shrugged it off. So once again, he waited until it seemed the younger man had calmed down some, and when he spoke, he spoke carefully and quietly.

"Spike, that's not fair, and you know it. I don't suspect you of using this as a suicide attempt. I don't. What I'm worried about is your reaction. You don't seem relaxed, Spike. You seem apathetic." When Spike opened his mouth, he held up a hand.

"Suicidal and apathetic are different things. I know that, and I'm not accusing you of anything. I'm not angry with you, Spike. I'm worried. I just want to make sure that you're okay. I promise that's all I want to do. I promise."

Spike didn't move. Greg sighed, but pushed on. "You're going to do your job, Spike. And you're going to do it better than anyone else can. I have complete confidence in you. But I want to make sure that you don't forget about yourself while you're doing it. You're _so_ important, Spike, and you don't realize how true that is. So I want you to take it from me. You have to remember your own worth. _That's_ what I want from you. Do you understand where I'm coming from?"

Still no answer from Spike, and Greg rubbed his eyes. He just didn't get why Spike couldn't wrap his mind around-

"Okay." Greg looked up, and Spike was staring at him, wide-eyed. "Okay, boss. I think I get where you're coming from, and I'll try. To understand, I mean. I'll try. And I'm-"

"Don't say you're sorry, Spike." Greg smiled. "It's okay, I shouldn't have come on so strong." He reached out again, and this time, Spike allowed the touch. "Come on, buddy. Let's go get all cleaned up, and then Dean's making dinner tonight. He said it's special for you. Before you go back to your place next week." He started guiding them toward the locker room. "He likes you a lot, you know. You should try…" Their voices drifted off as they made their way down the hall. It was still snowing outside.

* * *

><p>Another quiet one, but it won't stay that way for long... This is kind of the start of the third and final arc of the story. I think I'm telling the truth when I say that it's going to be the most intense, but you'll have to see for yourself. Keep reviewing, and I'll be more motivated, which means chapters will probably be up faster... :) Thanks so much for all the feedback- love it!<p>

Review review!


	22. Chapter 22

So, another chapter. I put a little bit (or a lot) of Dean into this chapter, because I like him, and because I thought it fit, and because he would have a perspective on Greg that no one else would have, and I think Spike needs that. But tell me what you think in your reviews! Anyway, a bit more humor in the first half of this one. Enjoy!

_Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?_

-Henry David Thoreau

* * *

><p>Dean did like Spike. As they temporarily shared living quarters, they had taken to hanging out in the evenings, watching TV or just lounging around talking. Spike had to admit, it felt nice. Dean was a smart kid, and their discussions ranged from books to history to, much to Spike's delight, physics.<p>

After a few hours of talking about the minutiae of how you had to be careful when you were using Lagrangian mechanics as a basis for robotics, Dean was completely lost. He didn't say anything, though, because Spike was so into it and Dean thought his enthusiasm was funny. He occasionally nodded or hummed in agreement when Spike looked over to make sure he was following, but for the most part, just watched. He could see why his dad was so attached.

* * *

><p>One night, while Spike was making dinner, Dean asked if he could teach him how to fight. Spike choked on a tomato.<p>

"What?" He asked once his airway had cleared and Dean had stopped attempting the Heimlich.

"Teach me how to fight." Dean repeated. "I really want to know, and you're good at it, so teach me. But only if you want." He added hastily. "You don't have to."

Spike nodded slowly. "All right." He said. Then he reconsidered. "Your dad won't have a problem with it?"

Dean didn't answer directly. "He's a police officer. Unless I start using my newfound skills to start beating kids up for their lunch money, there's really nothing he can say."

"I don't know, Dean. He might not like it." But when Dean uttered a cough that sounded suspiciously like "whipped", he acquiesced.

* * *

><p>And so their lessons began. Greg had taken to going out with Marina a few evenings a week, and they decided they could work then. It wasn't that they had anything to hide, Spike rationalized. They were just… being cautious. Yeah. Cautious.<p>

The first night, Spike started with the basics. They had shoved the furniture in the living room out of the way, and he began showing Dean how to get out of different holds. After couple nights of that, they were making progress. However, they were always sure to have everything back in place by the time Greg got home, and each pretended like they hadn't been doing anything out of the ordinary.

Everything went well until the fourth night. The pair had been practicing as usual, and then, out of nowhere, Dean twisted perfectly and broke one of Spike's holds. Spike hadn't been expecting it, and he lost his balance, slipping on the edge of the carpet, and-

They both watched in slow motion as his elbow hit the corner of the side table. The glass lamp on top wobbled, spinning in ever-wider circles until it rolled off the edge, eluding both sets of grabbing hands and shattering on the floor. Spike and Dean looked at each other, and leapt up at the same time.

"Give me some money- I'm going to the store and buying a new lamp. You clean this up and drag all the furniture back into place."

"What? You live here, you know better where everything goes-

"And I also know what the lamp looks like. You broke it, you clean it up."

"That's not fair!" But Spike was already handing over a wad of bills. "Hurry up- your dad gets back in twenty minutes. Go! Go! Go!" He called as Dean ran out the door. He immediately knelt down and started pushing the sofa back into place.

* * *

><p>Twenty minutes later, Greg opened the door to his apartment, ushering Marina inside. He hadn't taken three steps before he knew something was wrong. Spike was standing very still in the middle of the living room, head hanging and hands clasped behind his back.<p>

"Spike… what did you do?" Greg asked slowly.

Spike jumped. "Nothing! I didn't do anything at all! I was just- admiring the artwork. That's it. Admiring the artwork." The only artwork on the wall was a picture of a duck. Greg narrowed his eyes.

"Where's Dean? And why is there glass on my floor?"

At that moment, Dean came hurtling through the door. "Spike! I found one! And it's an almost perfect replica-" When he saw his dad, he mouth snapped shut and he tried unsuccessfully to hide the new lamp behind his back.

Greg looked back and forth between the two. Marina stood out of the way.

"Clean it up. Now." They both lunged toward the glass. When it was all safely disposed of, they scrambled up to attention. Greg hadn't moved, and they swallowed. Suddenly, both of them were talking at the same time.

"I swear, it was an accident-"

"We didn't mean to-"

"It just happened-"

Greg held up a hand, and the chatter stopped. Even Marina looked interested at what he was going to say. Greg opened his mouth, and the whole room took a breath. "Go to your rooms. Both of you."

Dean's mouth dropped open. "You can't send me to my room- I'm seventeen!

"What are _you_ talking about? I'm thirty-one! And I don't even live here! Boss, come on, I'm not a kid anymore, you don't have to-"

"You were wrestling in my house, and you broke my lamp. When you start acting like an adult, I start treating you like an adult. Now go."

There was a second of shocked silence, and then Dean grabbed Spike's arm and started dragging him down the hallway. "When he gets like this, all you can do is…"

As they turned the corner and their voices faded, Greg heard Spike whine. "I can't believe I'm grounded… I haven't been grounded in fifteen years…"

Greg looked at Marina. She stared back. "It's like you have two ten year-olds." She said. "It's actually kind of cute."

Greg grumbled. "It's only cute when you don't have to live with them." But he looked a little less angry than he did.

* * *

><p>They were un-grounded half an hour later. Greg said it was because they had learned their lesson, but they both knew it was because he either couldn't or didn't want to make to dinner. Both of them were leaning toward couldn't.<p>

* * *

><p>The next week, Spike had to move back to his own apartment.<p>

"Are you sure?" Dean whined as Spike packed up another box. The tech was surprised how much stuff he had accumulated during his stay.

"I had to go at some point, Dean. And now that I've gotten my apartment back, it's a good time. Don't worry; we'll still see each other." He smiled fondly. "In fact, I'll give your dad a key. Any time you want to come over, you're welcome to." He looked up at Greg. "Sound okay, boss?"

Greg nodded. "Sounds good. But Spike, are you sure about the key thing? Dean could just wait until he knows you're home."

"Nah." Spike waved his hand nonchalantly. "I trust you guys. Plus, if I have a seizure in my bathtub and can't get to the door, this way you won't have to break it down."

Dean laughed. "But you'll still come over here sometimes, right? Then we can practice-"

Greg shook his head before he could finish. "No. You only practice at Spike's place, or outside. I only have so many more lamps, and I'd like them to stay intact."

Rolling his eyes, Dean continued. "But you'll still come over, yeah? We can at least cook. I don't want to live on my dad's idea of food. I'd probably die."

Spike talked right over Greg's sputtering. "Sure, I'll visit- I wouldn't subject anyone to that fate. But now I've got to go- do you mind helping me with a couple of these boxes?"

Dean immediately stuffed a box under each arm and followed Spike out the door. Greg would have said he looked like a puppy following its owner, but that simile wouldn't work, because Spike would have to be a puppy too and you just couldn't have two puppies in that saying and have it mean the same thing. He shook his head. They were rubbing off on him.

* * *

><p>Back at the station, things were good too. There was still the upcoming bomb threat hanging over them, but the team was doing remarkably well, keeping everything relaxed and in perspective. Raf and Spike in particular were keeping the higher-ups on their toes. There had been a suspicious rash of pranks going around, and while everyone knew who was behind it, they couldn't prove anything, and so the pair walked around with their heads held high and smug grins on their faces.<p>

Greg would have called them on it, but it wasn't affecting their work in the slightest- team one was still by far the best, and they were only getting better. Holleran had come in to the briefing room one day with a personal commendation from the chief of police, and they had an almost perfect record over the past month. So they were allowed to be happy, Greg decided.

Plus, it was keeping their minds off the bigger things. Because even though the rest of the team seemed to be doing fine, Greg couldn't stop thinking about Cabe. Every time he had a moment of downtime, he thought of what he could be doing to find him, to stop him, to help Spike. And the worst part was, he couldn't find anything.

As much as he hated to admit it, it wasn't in his hands anymore. It wasn't his game. And the fact that it was a game made it all the worse, because the stakes were too high to play with.

* * *

><p>One night, Spike brought the subject up. They were having one of their dinners at his place, and Dean was in his room doing homework, so they had the kitchen to themselves.<p>

"Boss, you know what I've decided?" He said. Greg raised his eyebrows, and he continued. "I've decided I'm not going to worry about what Cabe does next."

"Spike, we talked about this…" Greg said dangerously.

"No, no, you don't understand. It's not that I don't care- and I know you think I don't, but it's true- it's just that I don't want to focus on it. I can't afford to let it take up all my waking hours. You saw what it did to me last time, and I never want that to happen again. Ever."

Greg nodded. "Okay. I can see that. I never want to see that again either. But you can't just shrug this off, Spike. It's your life, and you need to take it seriously. You can't just 'not worry' about it."

"I know that, boss. And I'm thinking about it, it's just not… there. Do you know what I mean?"

"No, Spike, I don't think I do."

Spike thought for a moment about it. "Well, it's not here, happening right as this moment, but it's also not there. It's not a concrete thing. I mean, I'm not deluding myself, I know it's still going to happen, and probably really soon, but it's not there yet. So I don't want to worry about it. It's just going to eat me up, and eat you up, and obviously, leaving didn't help that at all, so I can't let myself do what I did the last time."

"No, you can't. You absolutely can't. But all I'm saying is don't take this lightly. It's not a-" He was about to say game, but cut himself off. Spike obviously knew where he was going, but didn't bother to call him on it.

There was a long break in the conversation. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't easy, either, and Spike finally spoke again.

"Boss?" His voice was quiet, hesitant.

"Yeah, Spike?"

"I understand if you don't want to talk about it, but…" he struggled. "I was talking to Ed, right after I came back. He told you to give us some time, remember?"

Greg nodded. He had always assumed that Ed had just chewed Spike out about leaving, but it seemed there might have been something more to the discussion.

"He said some stuff… about when I was gone. He said it was hard for the team, but about how it was even harder for you. He said it… well, he said it really hurt you."

Greg started to shut down. He did not want to talk about this. Not to Spike, not to anyone. But the younger man was looking at his hands, and kept talking.

"I just wanted to ask you why… and I know you're not going to like me asking, but why… do you care? More than the rest of the team, I mean. I just don't understand why you care so much."

Greg had gone colorless in five seconds flat. He couldn't even open his mouth to answer, because here they were, sitting at his kitchen table, after everything that had happened in the last two months and the last six years, and Spike honestly didn't know why he cared. And that, he supposed, was the core issue. Why Spike didn't understand that he cared.

He remained silent, ashen, and Spike started to regret asking. He knew he was wrong to bring it up, but-

Someone grabbed his arm from behind, and he jumped. It was Dean.

"Dad, I need to talk to Spike. Right now. It's important." And before Greg could react, he had tugged Spike out of his seat and into the hallway. As they made their way toward Dean's room, Spike snapped out of his daze.

"Dean, I can't right now, I was talking to your dad, and I messed up, I need to go fix it-"

"I was listening. Shut up." And Spike shut up, because he had never heard Dean angry before.

They got to the room, and Dean slammed the door behind them, pushing Spike onto the bed. Then, without warning, he turned on him.

"Why do you think my dad cares about me, Spike?" He asked. Spike gaped.

"Well, you're his son, Dean, of course he cares about you-"

"Not good enough. Why do you think he cares about me?" Dean was completely determined, and Spike had never seen him so serious.

"Dean, parents care about their kids-"

"That's not why my dad cares about me. Why?"

Spike looked at him, bewildered, But Dean just stared right back.

"Okay… well, you're a good kid. A great kid." Dean motioned for him to go on.

"Um, you're funny, and you're smart, and you do well in school." Dean was still waiting, so he kept going. "You're what every parent wants in a kid, and he's proud. Of course he is. You're the best."

"Thanks, Spike. But that's not really why he cares for me. You're missing the point."

Spike took a second, but still didn't get it. "Dean, you're the best. You really are. And he loves you for it, of course he cares-"

"Stop." Dean said, and Spike stopped. "You just said it. That's why he cares."

"That you're the best? I already- oh. Oh." Dean nodded. As Spike began to grasp what he meant, he began shaking his head. He didn't want to start down this road.

"No, Dean, you're wrong, not me- of course your dad loves you. You're his son. It's different for him and me, I'm not-"

"Spike, stop. You _are_ his son. In every sense of the word. He loves you, Spike. He knows it. He's known it for a long time. I haven't even been here that long, and I can tell. Just like I can tell he loves me."

"God- Spike, stop shaking your head. Just stop being an idiot about this whole thing. There's no use trying to deny it until it goes away. It doesn't work like that, and you're just hurting him. You are."

Spike slowly stilled, and Dean sat down on the bed next to him. "He's probably told you, hasn't he? And you just didn't get it enough to understand what he meant." Spike didn't answer, and Dean sighed. "You really are an idiot sometimes, Spike." Another long pause, and then he nudged Spike's shoulder. "But it's okay. I've always wanted a brother." And he smirked when Spike tried to push him off the bed.

Greg still hadn't moved when Spike got back to the table a few minutes later. The tech sat down nervously, and looked back to the doorway. Dean gave him an encouraging nod and disappeared.

He turned around to face his boss. When Greg still didn't say anything, he swallowed. "I think I… I think I may understand it a little better, boss. I mean, I don't quite get why you would... well, I'm not…" He took a deep breath.

"Dean's pretty good at explaining things, isn't he?" And then Greg nodded, and he sighed in relief. He had a feeling he didn't need to say anything more.

* * *

><p>The next day, the pair of them were just joining the team in the locker room when Spike's phone went off. He worked it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. Private caller. Annoyed, he hit the talk button. "Hello?"<p>

"Hello, Spike."

And the only thing Spike could think of was that he had not expected Daniel Cabe's voice to be so high.

* * *

><p>Bwahahahahaha! I don't leave you guys with blatant cliffhangers often, but when I do... Review will make me post faster. Seriously. Love you guys ;)<p>

Review review!


	23. Chapter 23

Well, two things. First is that I got this chapter out really fast, so you should be happy. Second... well, you're going to have to wait until the end. This is Cabe's chapter from beginning to end, and I've got to say, he's fun to write. Villains often are, I'm told. Enjoy!

_Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?_

-Henry David Thoreau

* * *

><p><em>Previously:<em>

_"Hello, Spike."_

_And the only thing Spike could think of was that he had not expected Daniel Cabe's voice to be so high._

* * *

><p>Spike's hand immediately shot out and grabbed Greg's arm in a death grip. Looking down at his phone, he brought it back up to his ear again. "Hi, Daniel."<p>

Greg's face paled, and then he was all business, getting the team involved and sprinting out to get Winnie to put a trace on the caller. Spike, however, concentrated on the matter at hand.

"We've never really had a chance to talk before," Cabe was saying. "I wanted to fix that. So, how are you, Spike?" He sounded like was asking about the weather.

"I'm fine." Spike ground out. "Or, at least I was before you called."

"Oh, let's be polite, shall we? I asked about you…" When no response was forthcoming, he sighed. "Well, I'm doing wonderfully, thank you. Been eating, sleeping well, you know, keeping my health up. Those things are important." His voice was high, but clear and cutting. It didn't sound… right. "I'm very comfortable. It's unfortunate, the state of police searches today. All you have to do is find somewhere good to live, take care of a few people, and voila! They have no idea. Mmm, love it. Although I suppose you wouldn't know, being one of them and all. It's too bad."

Spike didn't know how to react. "What do you want, Daniel? Or can I call you Danny?"

Cabe cackled. "Oh, certainly. Anything you want, darling. And I don't necessarily want anything- can't I just call to check in? Make sure everything's okay?"

Spike had reached the briefing room by this point, and put the phone on speaker once the team had gathered around the table. He could see Winnie frantically typing away at her desk, but he turned his attention back to the conversation.

"You've tried to kill me twice. Forgive me if I don't quite buy it, _Danny_."

"Oh, don't worry about it." Cabe replied nonchalantly. "You know, to be fair to myself, I didn't try to kill you at the school. Nope, I was just trying to get to those kiddies, and you stepped in to save the day. Getting yourself blown up was really just an occupational hazard at that point- it wasn't anything personal. The garage, on the other hand… well, that was fun."

Greg's expression was fixed, and the rest of the team was pale and staring at the phone. "Yeah, it wasn't quite so rosy on this end, I've got to say." Spike said coldly.

"Oh, stop being a spoilsport. And by the way, you can tell your dispatcher to stop trying to trace the call; I've taken some preventative measures, and it's one of those temporary things you buy with cash anyway. So no point wasting your time." Sure enough, Winnie was shaking her head at the desk.

"What were we saying? Right, the garage. I did warn you, you know. Left that note. It was a bit melodramatic of me, I know, but then again, I always had a flair for the big entrances. Or exits, if you were looking at it from your perspective."

"But it didn't work, did it?" Asked Spike, his voice tight. "You messed up big, Danny; that was a rookie error. You didn't do your research, and it cost you."

And suddenly, all the levity of Cabe's tone vanished. "Don't you _dare_. You just got out on a stroke of luck, and you know it." There was a shocked pause from the team, and then his voice lifted again, lilting easily. "I was watching, did I mention that? You didn't quite hold up too well there, Spike. All that laughing, the running, that minor- well, okay, major- bout of hysteria? Everyone thought you were going crazy. Even your boss thought you were going crazy, and he's _mad_ about you. See what I did there? Whoo, I crack myself up. Hi, Greg! How's it going? What, nothing to say to me? Gosh, you guys should brush up on your pleasantries. They really do make or break a conversation."

"This is ridiculous." Spike growled. "What do you want?"

"Okay, okay, I'll get to the point." His voice dropped. "I owe you one, Spike. This is going to be it- there's no coming back. It's either you or it's me. No miscalculations now. Think of this as your warning."

He paused then, and once again, his tone changed. Spike was getting dizzy trying to keep up with it. "Well, that's quite enough of the dramatics for now. I've got be running; Matteo here and I have places to be, things to do. What's that? Oh, he's telling me it's Matt, not Matteo. I really should keep better track of these things. Don't worry though, sweetheart. We'll get to know each other more soon, I'm sure.

"Okay then. Ciao, team one! Keep a lookout- you'll be hearing from me very very soon! In fact, I'm setting up right now. We're going to have so much fun! Hey, watch it, Matteo, try not to blow us all to hell now, there's only…" And the phone clicked off.

Sam was the first to speak. "What does he mean, 'we're going to get to know each other'?"

Greg turned to him sharply. "I don't know, Sam." Everyone looked at Spike. He was haphazardly scrawling notes and diagrams onto a sheet of paper, mumbling incoherently.

"Spike, are you okay?" Raf asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He said without looking up. "Get uniforms to sweep every single one of those buildings on the list right now. If it's another timer, I need to get there as soon as possible. As for getting to know each other, the bomb's going to be the most personal one yet. He wants to toy with me. He's going to try to get as close as possible- literally and figuratively."

He looked up from his papers. "Someone get Sugarlumps in the car. I'm going to pick up some stuff I might need- nitrogen, drills, torches; that sort of thing. I should be ready in five minutes." And he started to jog off.

Greg motioned to Raf. "Start to work on Sugarlumps. Everyone suit up- full gear. If he's close, I don't want any problems."

* * *

><p>Ten minutes later, everyone was in their cars following Spike and Greg as they pealed out of the SRU. Greg looked over at Spike. Spike didn't look back at him. "Spike…" he said quietly. "It's going to be okay. You beat him twice, you can do it again. Remember what I said? I have complete confidence in you."<p>

"Yeah, but you also said I was apathetic and you were worried about me killing myself. I don't think that conversation's a good one to bring up right now." Spike's voice wasn't accusing, just flat. Greg winced internally.

"Let's just focus on the job, okay? You're going to do great. Everyone on the team knows it. Now where do you want us to go?"

Spike shrugged. "I don't care, as long as we can get to any of his buildings fast. Somewhere downtown. The call should be coming in any minute now." But it was a tense ten minutes before it did. Winnie patched the officer through.

"Hello? It's Kevin, you said? Where are you?" Spike asked. He covered the phone and turned to Greg. _35__th__ and Quentin_, he mouthed, and Greg nodded. He took the next right and began relaying directions to the team. "You're the one who saw the bomb?" Spike continued. There was no time for extraneous conversation now. "Okay, that's good. Where in the building was it?" His brow furrowed. "Are you sure? This is really important. Okay, okay, you're sure. What did it look like, and did it have a timer on it? Answer the timer question first." He paused, as if in disbelief. "You did _what_? You got within two feet of it, saw a timer, and didn't bother to check how much time was on it? What were you- okay." He took a deep breath. "You got close to it, you said? And obviously, it didn't blow up." He thought for a minute, and then closed his eyes. "All right, I'm going to ask you to do something, and know that I would never ask this under normal circumstances. You're perfectly able to refuse, and no one would think any less of you." He took another deep breath. He hated this. "What I'm asking is for you to go back down there to the bomb. We need to know how much time we have. Again, you don't have to do this, but it would help us out a lot. What do you think?"

There was a long pause, and everyone knew that if that officer was down there and the timer ran out, he was dead. The officer knew it too.

Then Spike sighed in a mixture of regret and relief. "Thank you so much, Kevin. I can't thank you enough. Okay, here's what you have to do. Stay as far away from the bomb as you possibly can. Take the exact same route you did when you first saw it, and exit the same way as well. Keep me on the line if at all possible, and describe what you see. We'll be there in…" He looked over at Greg, who held up five fingers. "We'll be there in five minutes."

He paused as he waited for Kevin to speak. "Okay. You're walking in now? Be very careful, and look out for anything like a trip wire or a laser trip. Tell me when you can see the bomb. Okay, that's great. And the diameter is….?" He frowned again. "Okay, don't worry about that. How much left do we have on that timer?"

And suddenly, Spike paled. Greg hissed; that was not a good sign. "Okay, Kevin." To his credit, Spike's voice did not waver at all. "You get out of there, you should have plenty of time. Have you cleared the building yet? Most of them? Do you think you can get the rest out in time? Okay, that's okay. You just, uh, you keep working on that. We'll be there in two, okay?" He waited for Kevin to get off the line, and then turned to Greg.

"Ten minutes left on the clock, boss. And they're not going to clear it in time."

"God dammit."

Spike nodded grimly. "I know. But something's wrong, boss… It's in the garage again. And Cabe wouldn't repeat things. He would want his final bomb to be something different, something special. I just…" But they were pulling up to the building, and Spike didn't have time to say anything more.

As he swung out of the car, he bent down to look at Greg. "I don't have time to bring Sugarlumps in, so I'm going in blind. I'll stay on the line with you guys. If I need the specs for something, I'm going to need them fast. Can you do that?"

Greg was already nodding. "Of course. Spike, you be careful, you hear? No more of this getting yourself blown up mess." Spike gave him a half-hearted smile as he turned around. He was still pale.

"You got it, boss. No blowing up." And then he was running towards the building, and the only thing Greg could do was watch him go.

* * *

><p>The rest of the team pulled up within moments. The street was pitifully bare. A few police cars were strewn about, and there weren't even enough people to keep the civilians at a safe distance. The minute Ed leapt out of the car, he latched onto the nearest uniform. "What is this?" He was growling. "Where are the rest of you guys? This isn't nearly enough to keep a perimeter."<p>

The unfortunate officer didn't know what to say, and stuttered for an answer. "There's a pile-up on one of the highways. " He finally managed. "They're pulling cars as fast as they can- they should be here in ten minutes." No one mentioned that ten minutes wasn't good enough.

Ed shoved him out of his way, disgusted. "Greg!" He called. "Where's Spike? Why doesn't he have any of his gear?"

Greg didn't even look at him. "He's going in blind, Eddie. He doesn't have enough time to take anything with him. There's-" He checked his watch. "Seven minutes left, and he hasn't even made it to the bomb."

Behind them, Raf cursed quietly. Ed turned around. "How many people are still left in the building?" He yelled at one of the uniforms. One of them stopped to answer.

"I'm guessing about fifty- we're clearing them fast, though." Greg shook his head.

"It's not good enough." He muttered. "There's no way they can get fifty people out in time for Spike to get out of there." He motioned Jules over. "Spike thinks there's something wrong with this one- that it breaks the pattern. I want you to try to look into that. Anything you find, you give to me." Jules nodded and ran towards the command truck." Greg turned back toward the building, and put a finger up to his ear.

"Spike?" He said. "How are you doing, buddy?"

* * *

><p>Spike was running as fast as he could toward the garage. It was taking him too long, he thought as he checked his watch. Six minutes. And to think he had thought twenty-five was bad.<p>

Turning a corner, he slammed into someone coming the other way. It was a uniform, and as he scrambled to his feet, Spike gave him the once over. "Kevin?" He called, already starting to run again.

"Yeah, sir?"

"You're a good man, you know that?" He was turning the next corner, though, and didn't have time to say anything else. He vaguely heard a reply, but he had already opened the stairwell door, and was taking the steps four at a time in his haste. Five minutes.

Finally, he reached the garage. He had to go slower here, be careful, take his time. He couldn't afford to make a fatal mistake; not before he had even seen the bomb. Suddenly, Greg's voice crackled through his headset. "Spike? How are you doing, buddy?"

Spike was still breathing hard from his mad dash. "I'm… okay, boss. Just made it to the garage- I should be seeing the bomb any second now. Slow going, though, because I'm not sure what I'm dealing with, and whether or not it's booby-trapped. Have they cleared the building yet?"

"Just a few minutes, Spike. Don't worry, we'll get everyone out."

"Hold on, boss- I think I see the bomb. Yeah, definitely. I…" He trailed off.

"What's the matter, Spike?" Spike could hear the dread in his boss' voice. He knew he wasn't going to have time to defuse something big.

"Boss, this isn't right. There's something going on here, none of this fits."

"Spike, what is it? What doesn't fit? You've got to tell us, Spike we can't see anything from here-"

Spike cut him off. Three minutes. "Boss… I can defuse this." He heard Greg's breath hitch in relief. "No, you don't understand. It's just one wire. That's all I have to cut. This isn't a structural bomb. It's an IED- I could throw one of these together in an hour. If it detonated, it would kill a few people, but it wouldn't even dent the concrete. This is wrong, boss. This won't do anything. I could walk out of here right now and let it blow and no one would be hurt. This doesn't make sense."

"It's okay, Spike, it doesn't have to make sense. Just get out of there. Don't even bother cutting the wire- we don't want anything going wrong. Just get up and leave, and we can worry about all the logic later. Got it?"

"Yeah, okay, boss." Spike said slowly. He glanced around at all the cars around him. It was a good sign, he decided, that they were the only things getting banged up today. He started to get up and turn around slowly. He still had two minutes to make it twenty meters. He was going to be okay. And suddenly, a high, clear voice floated toward him.

"Hold on, Spike, dear. We're not quite done yet."

* * *

><p>Greg was so relieved he couldn't catch his breath. Three minutes left on the clock, and Spike wouldn't even be close to the explosion. He couldn't have asked for a better outcome. "We'll worry about all the logic later. Got it?"<p>

He heard Spike's affirmative, and he leaned back against the car in relief. He heard the rest of the team give a collective sigh. It was all going to be okay.

"Spike?" He asked. "You out of range yet? Come on down and talk to us, okay?" There was no answer. Greg pushed himself off the car. "Spike?" Silence.

"Spike, come on!" He was yelling into the mic now, and the rest of the team was standing at attention. "We need to know you're okay!"

Then Spike's voice came drifting over the headset. "I'm not hurt, boss." But his voice was so tight that Greg knew something was wrong.

"Spike, tell us what's going on." He said quietly. There was another long silence.

"I'm next to the bomb. On my knees."

"You need to get out of there now-"

"Cabe is with me." And it hit Greg like a sledgehammer. Spike had said something was wrong, but-

"He has a gun to my head. And a hostage." Ed punched the car beside him before running toward one of the external exits of the garage, and Raf and Sam started sprinting towards the building, hoping to get to Spike before anything happened. "He's telling me to say hi." There was a loud crackling over the speaker, and when it stopped, it wasn't Spike on the other end.

"Hi guys! It's nice to talk to you again, even if you weren't very pleasant last time. Hold on just a second, please; Spike, be a darling and cut that wire. _Now_. Anyway, we're having a grand little time up here. And I know you're trying to get to me right how, but unfortunately, you won't have time. And you don't have a perimeter either, do you? Tsk. You should come prepared."

"Just another moment; Mattie, make those handcuffs nice and tight. And you, stop crying. I hate crying." He turned his attention back to Greg. "We're just hopping in the car now. Spike's doing okay- he's being very cooperative. I think he's afraid I'm going to do something to the little one. Oh, did I not mention that? Sorry- my other hostage. How old are you, sweetie? She says she's nine, but she looks younger than that."

Greg's hands were clenched so tightly his nails were drawing blood. "Listen, Daniel, you don't have to do this." He said in his best negotiating voice. "We can work something out. Let them go and we can talk, okay? It's going to be a lot worse for you if you hold a police officer and a child as hostages."

"Hmmm… you know, it really won't. No matter what I do now, I'm going away for the rest of my life if you catch me. I don't plan on that happening, though- Matteo, don't take those turns quite so fast, please; I'm getting slightly sick to my stomach. Anyway, Greg, so sorry we keep getting interrupted, but I think I've got to go now. We're just heading out of the garage, but- oh! Look at that. Wrong side of the building, I suppose. It'll take you _ages_ to get over here. Better call in the choppers, but I don't think you'll find us. And I've taken the liberty of leaving Spike's phone in the garage, and this nifty little thing is going bye-bye too. I would say talk to you soon, but I probably won't. So, it's been nice- Ta!"

And there was a loud screech, and then even the crackle of the mic was gone.

* * *

><p>So I said there were two things:<p>

1) You should be happy, and

2) You're going to hate me.

As our friend Danny said above, occupational hazard. And unfortunately, there will probably be more of them. It's just hard to make some chapters end happily when you're being held hostage by an insane psychopath. If you review, the chapters will come quicker!


	24. Chapter 24

I'm updating so fast! It's making me happy :) It may or may not continue, but for now it's cool.

In this one, Spike's really going to find out what he's getting into here. There's a little bit of bonding, a little bit of angst, and let's just say... well, read it and you'll know more. Enjoy!

_Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?_

-Henry David Thoreau

* * *

><p>The perimeter was a swarm of activity. Greg was on his radio, calling in helicopters to start a search, and Ed was busy yelling directions at any uniform he could find. Raf and Sam had reached the garage, and sure enough, they found Spike's phone, vest, and gun lying on the ground. Raf groaned.<p>

"Boss." He said into his boss. When Greg barked back at him, he reached up to rub his temples. "He left Spike's phone and gun, but also his vest. Spike's going in there completely unprotected."

Greg cursed. "What else do you see?" Sam spoke up next.

"There are strips of duct tape here, probably for the little girl. No sign of a struggle."

"Keep looking. Anything you find, we need." At their affirmative, he turned to Jules. "Who's the girl, Jules? What was she doing in the building?"

Jules shook her head. "I'm looking through security footage now, but we don't have a positive ID yet. I'm moving as fast as I can." Greg leaned his head back against the side of the car. They didn't have anything to go on.

* * *

><p>Spike was furious. He wasn't even so mad at Cabe- okay, well, yes he was- but mostly, he was mad at himself. He couldn't believe he had let this happen. He should have known from the minute he had gotten that phone call that something was up. God, Cabe had even told him that he wanted to get to know him better. It was so obvious in hindsight that he couldn't believe he had missed it.<p>

But now, he couldn't really dwell on it, because he was handcuffed and bouncing around in the back of a van opposite a nine year-old girl. She had stopped crying, and was sitting quietly on her side of the truck. Spike sighed, and started shoving himself around until he was positioned next to her.

It seemed Cabe wasn't too worried about one of them escaping. Although Spike had his wrists handcuffed behind his back, she had hers sitting in her lap, only restrained by a couple of layers of duct tape. Neither of them was gagged.

When he had finally made it next to her, Spike gently nudged her shoulder with his. "Hey." He said softly. "I'm Spike. What's your name?" Cabe and Arbor were talking in the front seats, and didn't seem very interested in listening in.

The girl looked up at him. "I'm Laurel. Who are those two guys? I don't think they like me very much."

"Oh no, don't worry about it, Laurel. They don't like anybody much. They're just a couple of crazy people." When she didn't immediately respond, he nudged her again. "Laurel's a very pretty name. I like it a lot."

She nodded, a little more enthusiastically. "My mom said it's the name of a tree. It's a good name."

Arbor turned around. "No talking!" He barked, but Cabe put a hand on his shoulder.

"Eyes on the road please, Matthias. And let them bond. They might as well get attached." He smiled benevolently back at Spike, who just glared. Cabe chuckled, and resumed his conversation with Arbor.

Spike turned back to Laurel. "Did you know that some people wore wreaths of laurel a long time ago? It was like a crown, to show how important they were."

"My mom showed me pictures in a book. I liked them, but the people were dressed really funny." She wrinkled her nose. "It was like a sheet."

Spike laughed, and marveled that he still could at a time like this. "They were called togas. But yeah, they do look like sheets, don't they? A lot of people dressed funny back then, I guess."

"I bet they did, if they were wearing sheets." Spike laughed again, and nodded. Laurel was looking happier by the second. "What does your name mean? Did your parents name you Spike?"

"No, my parents named my Michelangelo, like the artist who painted on the ceiling of that church. But people called me Mike, and since my hair's all spiky, it got turned into Spike."

"Oh. I like the name Spike too. It's funny."

When Laurel asked about his uniform, he started explaining what the SRU did. She was fascinated, and kept peppering him with questions until she got to the one that mattered. "So, what's your job? I bet it's something cool. You seem cool."

"Thanks, Laurel. I call myself cool too, but I don't think the rest of my team believes me." He smiled crookedly at her. His wrists were starting to chafe, but he kept his voice light. "I'm the technology guy. I get all the information we need and make sure my team has it when they need it- stuff like security codes, hacking into cameras; fun stuff. I'm also the explosives expert. That can be fun too, but mostly it's pretty stressful. I can't afford to ever mess up, or people might die."

Laurel nodded sagely. "I understand. Are you the best at it? I can tell that you don't mess up much."

"I'm pretty good, yeah. Actually, that's why the guy up there is mad at me. I've defused a couple of his bombs, and it made him upset."

"Which one is mad at you? The one driving?"

"Well, maybe him too, but I'm talking about the other one. The short one."

"Oh. The creepy one." She leaned over to whisper in his ear. "I think the big one's stupid. He just does what the little one says."

Spike grinned and whispered back. "I think so too, Laurel."

"Yeah, and the little one can't be all that smart either, because he kidnapped you. That's bad. He shouldn't have done that."

"No, he shouldn't have. But you know what? I'm kind of glad." Laurel looked over, puzzled, and he smiled at her. "Because you would be here alone, and I never would have met you. This way, at least we're together, right? And I'm not scared. We can keep talking about how stupid they are. That makes me feel better."

Laurel rested her head against his shoulder. "That makes me feel better too. You know what? I'm not going to be scared anymore either. I never liked idiots. I'm the smartest one in my class, you know."

"I bet you are, Laurel. I knew there was a reason I liked you."

* * *

><p>"Boss!" Jules was running up. "I've got the girl's ID! Her name's Laurel Bennett, her mom lost sight of her when they started clearing the building. A uniform's bringing her over now."<p>

Sure enough, a uniform was guiding a hysterical woman in their direction, and Greg jogged over to intercept them. "Mrs. Bennett?"

She whipped around to face him. "Where's my daughter? Tell me where she is!" Greg held up his hands.

"Mrs. Bennett, we don't have that information yet." He talked over her sobbing. "Two men kidnapped her and a police officer today, and we're doing everything in our power to find them. The minute we find anything, you'll be the first to know."

She had attached herself to his vest, and was shaking violently. He put an arm around her. "It's going to be okay. We don't have any reason to suspect she's hurt; we'll find her, and you can talk to her as soon as possible."

Sam came running up. "Boss, we may have a sighting on the car from one of the choppers."

* * *

><p>Half an hour later, the pair of them were unceremoniously pulled from the back of the truck, and Spike growled as Laurel was jostled violently. Cabe laughed.<p>

"It's okay, Spike. We're not going to hurt her yet. Or at least, not too badly. You never know, with me." He smiled at Spike. "Do you recognize where we are? I think you may have been here before. Maybe not. But I had to get you away from your friends for a little bit so we could play."

Spike looked around. They had pulled up to the docks. But as opposed to the bustling harbor that Spike was so used to, there were at the very end of the piers, an area that was run-down and uninhabited. It was freezing. He turned his attention back to Cabe.

"Well, I can't say I'm surprised. It's an easy place to dump a body, isn't it? Just shoot me now and be done with it; you don't need to keep Laurel here anymore. Let her go."

Cabe looked at her interestedly. "Is that her name? Laurel? Well, hello there, Laurel. It's a pleasure to meet you." Laurel just glared back at him, and he raised his eyebrows. "You're quite the little something, aren't you? And Spike, darling, you've completely misjudged the situation. As usual. I'm not going to shoot you. That's so… pedestrian. Guns aren't any fun. You just pull the trigger, and- BLAM!" He shouted suddenly, and Laurel flinched. Spike just stared at him, and Cabe sighed. "It's so _easy_. I prefer something a little more sophisticated. And plus, why would I just shoot you? The whole point of all this is to prove that I'm better than you. Killing you now would rather defeat the purpose, don't you think?"

"I don't think anything you do has a purpose, Danny. You're demented, that's all. You're nothing special."

Cabe's eyes flashed as he motioned to Arbor, who shoved Spike to his knees. Then the bigger man went to hold Laurel as Cabe slowly idled closer. He studied the tech with a deceptively mild expression on his face. "Let me tell you something, Spike. You see that boat over there?" He gestured toward a trawler that was tied to the end of the dock. The paint was peeling, but it looked sturdy and well made. "It has a little present for you inside. Another bomb, of course. I've made some space for you, and so you're going to bring your friend Laurel in there with you, and you're going to try to defuse it. We'll make sure you can't leave, of course. One of us will be there with you the whole time." He considered. "Well, until it blows. We'll probably get out of there at that point."

Spike ground his teeth. "How can I be sure you won't just kill me when I'm done?"

"Well, you can't, of course. But your chances are a lot better than if you just let the bomb detonate, and anyway, it won't come to that. I'm fairly certain you won't be able to deal with this one."

Spike was still on his knees, hands cuffed behind him, but he glared up defiantly. "Just like you were fairly certain at the school? And at the garage? I don't know, Danny, your track record's not really something to brag about-"

He was cut off as Cabe planted a foot in the middle of his chest and violently shoved him backwards. Spike went sprawling on the ground, his elbows scraping and handcuffs catching on the wood as he slid to a stop. He struggled to get his breath back as Cabe walked closer until he was standing right over him.

"That wasn't very nice, Spike. I'm going to give you _one_ chance to apologize." His words were cold and flat. Spike stared up at him for a second, and then turned his head and spat at his feet. Cabe didn't move.

"Okay. That's fine. Hmm. I guess you don't need to stand while you work on the bomb, so…"

He lifted his heel and drove it downwards, putting all his weight behind the thrust. As it hit Spike's shin, the tech heard the crack of breaking bones a split second before a wave of white-hot agony seared through his body. He let out a choked cry, and his back arched and his head slammed back against the dock as he tried desperately not to black out.

Cabe was saying something to him, but he couldn't hear it through the rushing of blood in his ears, and only realized what was going to happen when he forced his eyes open and saw the man moving to his other side. He writhed uselessly in an attempt to get away, but he couldn't move, paralyzed by the pain, and Cabe's foot was coming up again. Spike was certain he was going to black out this time.

But before he could bring his foot down, Cabe pitched suddenly to one side, losing his balance and stumbling as he tried to keep himself upright. When he pulled himself up again, he was clutching the back of his leg and cursing. Laurel was standing where he had been, struggling fiercely as Arbor tried to regain his grip on her.

Cabe slowly let go of his leg and turned towards the girl. "That wasn't very nice either… " He said dangerously. "That's going to leave a bruise, you know. I don't particularly like that." She didn't stop struggling, but still managed to find a way to glare at him.

"I'm not scared of you." She said, her tone in striking contrast with her childish voice. "You hurt Spike. You deserved it."

"Laurel, no…" Spike was moaning. "Don't." His head rocked back against the ground again. "He's just going to hurt you too..."

Cabe looked between Laurel and Spike. "You know what, Spike, darling? I don't think I will." He walked up to Laurel and took her chin in his hand. "Look at _you_. You really are the little spitfire, aren't you?" He tried to turn her head, but she yanked it out of his grasp. His eyes narrowed. "Careful…"

"Don't you touch her." Spike's breath was coming in short gasps. "Don't touch her." Cabe looked over disinterestedly.

"You wouldn't really be able to do anything, would you though, sweetheart? I thought not." He turned back to Laurel as if he had not just shattered a man's leg. "It's going to be okay, love. Don't worry. Spike's going to live- well, for now- and he's going to try to defuse my bomb, and you'll get to be together until he messes up." He patted her on the cheek, and looked at Arbor. "Get them into the boat. I'll be there in a few minutes, so do try to make it quick." Turning around, he started to walk down the dock, whistling cheerfully.

* * *

><p>"What do you mean, you lost it? You can't just <em>lose<em> a van that size! Listen- no, I don't care; you start sweeping every damn street in Toronto. Yeah? Well, you shouldn't have lost it in the first place. Get on that search now. You're wasting time." Greg slammed the phone down in the receiver. "Jules!" He shouted. "Do you have anything?"

Jules came jogging up. Her brow was lined with sweat. "Nothing, boss. I've been on every security camera, every traffic cam within two miles, but there's just too much information. I've pulled as many uniforms as I can, but it's going to take time. I know we don't have it-" She said when Greg opened his mouth. "But it's all we can do. I'm sorry." Greg whirled around, but when nobody came up to him, turned back to Jules.

"We need more information, Jules. I don't even know where to start. He can't just- no one can disappear like that. There must be something out there." Jules nodded.

"We'll find it, boss." She opened her mouth, about to tell him not to worry, but closed it again immediately. That was completely pointless. Greg looked at her sharply.

"Get back to work. Find Sam and Raf and have them help you. I want this done yesterday."

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><p>Arbor shoved Laurel into the hold of the boat first, and made sure to lock the door securely behind him when he went to go get Spike. The tech was still lying in the same place, pale as a ghost and panting for air. Arbor walked up to him and, without pausing, hauled him up into a fireman's hold. Spike paled even more, if it was possible, and hung limply over the bigger man's shoulder. When they got to the edge of the trawler, it became clear that they weren't going to be able to step into it together. So Arbor dumped him in the boat, hopped up himself, and just started dragging the tech over to the door, completely ignoring the injured leg. Spike was unconscious within three steps.<p>

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><p>So...yeah.<p>

I don't think I'm endearing myself to you guys, am I? But I just go where the story takes me. Reviews will make me post faster, and make Spike all better. Well, not really the second one, but they will make me post faster.

Review review!


	25. Chapter 25

Hello all! So, we're gradually coming to the climax of the story, and everything's starting to get a bit more tense. Cabe really is a psychopath, you know. This chapter leaves out Greg and the team's reactions, but I felt it was necessary to keep the flow going with Spike and his gang. Feel free to tell me what did and didn't work. Enjoy!

_Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?_

-Henry David Thoreau

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><p>Something was tapping against his face. Spike was vaguely aware of it, but he was lost in a hazy oblivion and sank back into unconsciousness before he could process anything. He didn't want to process anything. He wanted to just go back to sleep, but the tapping was getting more and more insistent, and despite his best efforts, he was being pulled gradually into awareness. All of a sudden, the pain hit him like freight train, and his eyes flew open as he shot up with a gasp.<p>

But something was holding him down. As his vision swam into focus, the first thing Spike saw was Daniel Cabe's face.

The man was crouching in front of him, using one hand to pin the tech's chest against the wall. Someone had propped him up, leaving his legs outstretched, and he could feel every slight dip in the wood of the boat against his mangled right ankle. When Spike's eyes finally focused, he saw Cabe grinning in front of him.

"Well, hello, darling. How's our little sleeping beauty feeling?" Spike pressed his head back against the wall, fighting back a groan. Beads of sweat were starting to gather on his temples.

Cabe paused and looked down at Spike's leg. "Not so good? You know, this really wouldn't have had to happen if you'd just been a little more polite. But that's okay. No permanent damage, right?" He looked down again and raised his eyebrows. "Actually, sweetheart, it looks like it might be permanent. Maybe that wasn't the best choice of words. Hmm. Nothing fatal? Yes, that does work better, don't you agree? Oh, come on, Spike- nothing to say?"

Spike was leaning back against the wall, panting. "Not to you, Danny. This isn't exactly the world's best conversation starter." He bit out, nodding toward his leg.

Cabe smiled indulgently. "Fair enough, I suppose." he jumped to his feet. "Well! I must say, I'm excited! I've spent all this time working, and finally, someone gets to see my masterpiece- at least, someone who can appreciate it." He glanced dryly at Arbor. "Behold!" He stepped aside with a flourish.

Spike took the time to examine the room first. It was the hold of the boat, but Cabe had made some changes. Ripping out the interior walls had combined what would have been the different sections, and the all the steering equipment had gone the same way. The windows were covered with steel plates bolted into place. The trawler was not designed to move.

Spike's gaze moved downward. The room itself was well lit, and there was a small door in the corner- he guessed some sort of supply room, or the engine room. He could see Arbor in the corner, standing in front of Laurel. Spike opened his mouth to say something to her, but Cabe's foot swung over to tap menacingly next to Spike's leg. "Now's not the time, sweetheart." He said lightly. "You still haven't seen the bomb."

Spike opened his mouth to retort, but thought better of it. He looked toward the center of the room, and didn't say anything for a minute.

When he did, the sweat had started to drip down the side of his face. He turned his attention back to Cabe. "You know I can't-" He began, and then glanced at Laurel. He closed his eyes. "Okay." His voice was quiet, subdued. "Okay."

Cabe cackled. "Recognize it, darling? It's special for you." When no response was forthcoming, he firmly pressed down on the broken leg with one of his feet. Spike jerked and cried out. Cabe waited patiently.

"Yes." He finally ground out.

"Yes what, dear?"

"Yes, I recognize it, okay? I know what it is." His head was swimming, and he didn't know if it was from the pain or the knowledge of what was sitting in front of him.

"Oh? That's good, Spike, very good. What can you tell us about it?"

Spike glared up at him. "I can tell you that there's a good reason they stopped making them. This is ridiculous, Cabe, you know that as well as-"

"Hush, hush, love." Cabe crouched down in front of him again. "What happened to Danny?" He asked. "We were getting along so well…" He pulled his mouth into a pout. "Well, it's okay, I guess. You've had a bit of a shock today, and no one's perfect." His voice dropped. "But you're going to have to be, aren't you, Spike? One mistake and you're _gone_. And so is Laurel." He looked around, and when he turned back to Spike, he was smiling jovially. "It's too bad we're stuck here in this little boat, but I had to plan, you see. You can't exactly move one of these around after you've built it, and police are so pesky these days. One whiff of WP, and, boom- they're knocking at your door." He shook his head mournfully. Then he smiled and looked up at Spike. "So, can you do it, love?"

"Any bomb can be defused, _Danny_." But even as Spike said it, he could feel a weight settling in the pit of his stomach. Cabe seemed to realize it, and grinned ferally.

"That's a good attitude, dear. But goodness, we haven't told our guest about your present! Why don't you explain it to her, Spike?"

"No." Spike growled up at him. "She's nine. She doesn't need to hear it. We both know, so what's the point?"

"I don't need to have a point, darling. That's one of the perks of being the one in charge. So tell her what it is. _Now_."

"I won't. You can't make me." Cabe raised his eyebrows. He stood up and lifted one foot, positioning it over Spike's bad leg. Spike paled, but shook his head. "No. I won't." No one moved.

Then Cabe sighed and stepped aside. "Well, this is admirable. You're very brave, Spike, you know that? Good for you." His voice dropped again. "Now tell her or I'll kill her." Then he smiled. "I want her to hear it from you."

Spike bit his lip so hard it started to bleed. "Fine." He spat. "But bring her over here. I want to see her."

Cabe clapped happily. "Of course, of course! Mattie dear, let her go, won't you?"

Arbor frowned. "My name is Matt. Not Mattie."

Cabe turned on him so quickly even Spike jumped. "If had wanted you to talk, I would have asked, _Mattie_. Now shut up and let her go." Arbor stepped back dumbly, and Laurel used the opportunity to slip by him. She stepped gingerly over to Spike and sat down by his side.

"It's okay." She said. "You can tell me; I won't be scared." She smiled up at him, and Spike leaned his head back against the wall and attempted to smile back. He was pretty sure it came out more like a grimace.

"Well, as touching as this scene is, _I'm_ really interested in what Spike has to say." Cabe said as he sat down and rested his elbows on his knees. He was the perfect picture of an attentive student.

Spike ignored him and turned back to Laurel. "Have you ever read about World War II?" He asked gently.

She nodded. "Yeah. Hitler and the Germans wanted to take over Europe, and Italy and Japan became their friends. America and Britain were trying to stop them from taking over the world."

Spike tried to smile again, and this time it came a little more easily. "I can tell you're the smartest in your class, Laurel. I'm impressed."

"I like to read. I spend a lot of my time in the library, and my mom says that that's very good for me."

"Your mom sounds like a smart person too." Cabe cleared his throat, and Spike grimaced. "Anyway, World War II. Well, it was a war, obviously, and people do a lot of bad things in wars. Things that they shouldn't do, because they hurt a lot of people."

Laurel nodded.

"Well, in this war, some scientists in America wanted to build a bomb that would hurt people. They already had bombs that could do that, of course, but these ones were going to be special. See, near the end of the war, we had started using fire in bombs to burn a lot of German cities. And the new ones were supposed to do the same thing, just more effectively. That means they could drop fewer bombs, and it would still burn just as much. And these new bombs were much smaller, too, so you could fit more of them into a plane.

"But the bombs didn't work like they wanted them to. They were so delicate that even getting them into the plane could set them off, and they did a lot of bad things to the people who were testing them, so they decided not to make them anymore. And that's it. That's what this bomb is." Spike looked defiantly at Cabe, who shook his head.

"No, no, no, Spike, you didn't tell her the best part! Come on, tell her what they did to the people testing them." When Spike didn't respond, his eyes flashed. "Tell her _now_. Or I'll shoot her."

Spike squeezed his eyes shut. "Well, Laurel, the scientists filled the bombs with a chemical that made them burn, like I told you. But they only knew what it would do to buildings. It was a little bit worse for people. And that's all I'm saying, Cabe."

The other man sighed dramatically. "I guess I'll just have to finish the story, then." He looked straight at Laurel. "When it exploded, sweetheart, it didn't just light people on fire. It burned them from the inside out. Did you know that in your bones, you have something called marrow? The chemical inside the bomb would light the marrow on fire, and that fire would travel to all the other bones, and the person would be alive until the second it burned their heart out from the inside. It would be a terrible way to die. Very painful."

Spike struggled against the handcuffs. "You didn't have to go there, Cabe." He said furiously. "She's a kid- they shouldn't know this stuff. That's what being a kid means-"

Laurel's soft voice interrupted him. "It's okay, Spike." She was pale, but composed.

It clearly threw Cabe for a loop. "I don't know if you heard me correctly, dear. _From the inside out_. They burned. That's not a good thing."

"I know." Said Laurel. "But I decided not to be scared in the car. Spike's going to take care of it, and we're not going to get hurt." She seemed completely convinced. "He's the best."

Cabe slowly got to his feet. "He is not the best." He said deliberately, venomously. "I am. And when you see that bomb go off, you'll know it."

Laurel shook her head, not seeming to realize how mad she was making him. "He said he's already beat you a couple times. I think that means that-" Before she could finish, Cabe lashed out, aiming a kick straight at her head. If it had landed, it would have broken her jaw.

Instead, Spike somehow jerked himself in front of her, and Cabe's foot connected with his ribs. He twisted violently back into Laurel as all the air left his lungs, and a sharp pain in his chest was joining the overwhelming one in his leg. His vision was swimming, and for the second time in an hour, he thought he was going to pass out.

But Laurel was shaking his shoulder and asking him if he was okay, so Spike hung on to consciousness as best as he could. As he slowly pulled his thoughts together, he became aware that he was lying across her lap, and the only thing he could think of was that he hoped he wasn't crushing her. He groaned, unable to move.

It turned out he didn't have to. A pair of arms grabbed his shoulders and hauled him away from Laurel, pulling him sharply upright. When they let go, he just slumped again in the other direction. This time, the hands that stopped him were smaller.

"That shouldn't have happened." Cabe was saying as he gently leaned Spike up against the wall. "I didn't mean to hurt you, darling. I just got so _angry_..." When Spike didn't even lift his head, the other man grasped his chin and lifted it until they were at eye-level. Spike's eyelids were fluttering, but he saw genuine regret in Cabe's face.

Cabe was softly pressing down on each rib, one at a time, and stopped when Spike jerked and shuddered. He frowned. "I've think I've broken one, dear. You have to believe me when I say it was an accident." He gestured to Arbor, who was standing above him. "Get me the first aid kit from the car, won't you, Matteo? And make it quick." He turned back to Spike. "I'm going to fix you up a bit. The leg was fine, but a rib is seriously going to restrict your movement. You'd be surprised at how many things connect to your ribs." He smiled. "And we want you at your best, don't we, sweetheart? I want to make this as fair as possible."

"So you build a cluster bomb with white phosphorus and start kicking people when they're down? That doesn't sound quite fair to me, Danny." Spike's voice was weak, but cutting.

Cabe stilled for a second, his eyes hard as steel. Spike was sure he was going to hit him again, but then the other man smiled brightly as if nothing had happened. "Oh, but I had sooo much fun building it, darling! And I was thinking of you the whole time." Arbor chose that moment to walk back in the door. "Will you look at that, help has arrived. Now, I'm going to need to uncuff you, dear, so you've got to make sure you play nice. Okay?"

Spike didn't think he could do any damage if he tried, and didn't say anything. Cabe smiled. "Thank you, Spike. That's very considerate. Now Laurel, if you could come over here, dear, I'm going to need some help with his shirt. That's a good girl."

When they had finished, Spike's chest was wrapped in gauze, and the pain, although still present and accounted for, wasn't nearly as blinding as it had been. And sure enough, he could move more easily- or at least he could have, if not for his leg. Cabe seemed to understand what he was thinking.

"Yes, well, the leg will be a problem for you, won't it? Unfortunately, you won't need to move much from the waist down, so I'm not going to bother patching that one up. Sorry." He said, not sounding sorry in the slightest. "Now lean forward so I can get your shirt back on- it's cold outside, and we wouldn't want you to get sick, would we? Although you probably won't be going back outside… hmm. Well, better safe then sorry, right?"

Spike didn't even twitch as Cabe gently pulled one arm through a sleeve, and then the other. It wasn't worth it to argue.

* * *

><p>Cabe gave him an hour to "recuperate" before he had to start in on the bomb. Spike spent the time sitting next to Laurel, talking quietly and trying to remain perfectly still. But as their conversation got easier, he began telling a story about Raf and tried to shuffle closer to her. As a burst of pain lanced up his leg, he couldn't stop the gasp escaping his lips, and he paled dramatically. Laurel looked up at him worriedly.<p>

"Are you okay?" She asked. "Is your leg hurting really bad?"

Spike nodded. "Yeah." He said through gritted teeth. "Every time I move, it jostles it, and it's not a good feeling."

"Would wrapping it up have helped?"

"Probably, but Danny over there doesn't seem to want to do it. He's pretty inconsiderate that way." He was still breathing hard.

Laurel nodded. "I know." She considered. "But why don't you do it? There's more tape right here." She picked up the roll of gauze.

"I would if I could, Laurel. But to wrap it, I need to lift it up, and I can't bend over to do that because of what he did to my ribs. So it's not really possible right now." He tried to smile down at her.

She furrowed her brow. "What if I did it for you? Would that help?"

Spike glanced over at Cabe. He wasn't paying attention to them. "Maybe, sweetheart, but I don't think he's going to let you. Plus, you'd need a splint, and your hands would have to be untied." He looked down at her reassuringly. "Don't worry about it; I'll be okay."

She looked at his leg, and then back at him, and she shook her head. "No, you won't. I'll be right back." And she pushed herself up and started marching over to Cabe.

It took Spike a second to realize what had just happened. "Laurel, stop!" He called desperately when he did. "Come back!" His shout caught the attention of Cabe, who looked over toward them. When he saw Laurel approaching, he raised his eyebrows.

"Why, hello, Laurel. What seems to be the problem, dear?" Arbor started to stand up, but Cabe stopped him with a hand on his knee. "It's okay, Mattie. I want to know."

Laurel had reached them by this point, and without preamble, stuck her hands right into Cabe's face. He blinked. Then leaned around them to peer at her diminutive form. "Is something wrong with your hands, Laurel?"

"Yes." She snapped. "I want you to untie me. Now."

There was a long moment of silence. Even Cabe seemed to have no idea what to say to that. Arbor just stared, wide-eyed, and Spike closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. Laurel just wiggled her arms. "Now."

Finally, Cabe got it together enough to speak. "Laurel dear, I don't think you quite understand the concept of being tied up. You see, the general purpose of the idea is to-"

"Untie me."

"Again, Laurel, the-"

"Shut up."

Cabe shut up. Spike almost felt sorry for him. "Okay… May I ask why I'm untying you?"

Laurel nodded. "Yes."

Pause.

"…Why am I untying you, Laurel?"

"Because I need to find a splint, and then I need to help Spike wrap up his leg." She wiggled her hands again. "So you need to untie me."

No one said anything for a moment, and then Cabe began to laugh. It was an odd, breezy laugh that seemed entirely out of place, and it was somehow unsettling. But he kept laughing, and before long, he was doubled over in his seat, and Spike and Arbor couldn't do anything but stare. Laurel took a step back, but waited for him to finish. Eventually, he did, straightening up and wiping tears from his eyes.

He patted Laurel on the cheek. "Ohh, darling. That was wonderful. Never let it be said you don't have guts, dear." He suddenly sobered, and rolled his shoulders slowly, popping each one. His voice went flat. "Matteo, hand me your knife." Spike began to struggle madly on the floor.

"Don't you dare, Cabe! Hurt her and I'll kill you!" Cabe just glanced at him coldly.

"Spike, darling, you're sitting handcuffed on the opposite side of the room with a broken leg and at least one broken rib. You couldn't get up if you tried, and I seriously doubt you could roll your way over here before one of us could shoot you. Try not to be so melodramatic, dear. You need to be at least semi-credible before you threaten anyone with death. Otherwise, it just loses its pizazz, you know what I mean? Now Laurel, come here." He said as he took the knife from Arbor.

When Laurel didn't move immediately, he grabbed her by the arm and yanked, twisting her around so that her back slammed up against his chest. When she was flat against him, he rested his chin on her shoulder and wrapped one of his arms gently around her waist. "Darling," He said quietly into her ear, "That's not quite the way things work around here." He began idly tracing patterns on her arm with the tip of the knife. "Here, I tell you what to do, and you do it. Not the other way around. Capiche?" Laurel didn't answer, her jaw jutting forward. Cabe dragged the knife across her skin a little more forcefully, leaving angry red marks where it passed.

"Cabe, I swear to god…"

"Spike, be a dear and don't interrupt anymore, or _whoops_-" The knife jumped to her throat, pressing against her trachea. "My hand might slip." His eyes were cold and focused, and Spike stilled immediately. Cabe smiled. "Thank you."

He turned his attention back to Laurel. "Do you understand what I'm getting at, love? It really is quite an important part of our implied relationship in this situation." She still didn't answer, and Cabe's eyes narrowed. The knife moved down to her hands. "You know, darling…" His breath was tickling the wisps of hair at her temple. "I could cut off one of your lovely little fingers here-" He started running the knife down the valleys between each one. "And it wouldn't really affect your worth to me at all. I'd suggest you cooperate." Laurel remained stubbornly silent, and his hands tightened on the knife. A quiet moan came from Spike's direction. Cabe ignored it. "Or maybe a thumb…" He said contemplatively, moving the blade over. He looked up at Spike. The tech was pale and shaking, entirely focused on the knife in his hands. "How does a thumb sound, Spike dear?" Spike just shook his head, not taking his eyes off the knife. "Hmm… no one seems to want to say anything to me-" He looked down at the blade, still playing with the digit in question.

Suddenly, he yanked the knife back towards him viciously. Laurel jerked, and Spike yelled furiously, but Cabe just raised his eyebrows. He held out Laurel's arms, and the duct tape was dangling limply from each wrist, having been slit cleanly up the middle. Cabe released her and sat back in his chair. "Go to it, darling." He said calmly, and then paused. "Actually, wait." He turned to Arbor. "Get up. Now." Arbor got up slowly, and Cabe, in one burst of motion, stood up and grabbed his chair, swinging it violently into the wall. The chair gave way upon impact, and when he stood back, there were chunks and slivers of wood strewn all around him. The leg was still in his hand.

Nobody moved, in total shock. Cabe paused, and looked down at the piece of wood he was carrying. Then he held it chivalrously out to Laurel. "A splint, dear, for the lady." Laurel took it slowly, and he smiled warmly at her. "Good girl. Now go on, do your thing." He gently turned her around and nudged her in the right direction, still smiling. "Spike's waiting for you."

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><p>This may be wrong, but I have a lot of fun writing Cabe. He's really a story unto himself. Let me know what you think of him, and of course, the other parts of the chapter as well. I know I say this all the time, but your feedback really does make me post faster.<p>

Review review!


	26. Chapter 26

Things are really starting to heat up! I don't really have much to say about this chapter, except that once again, a lot of research went into it. I'm almost certain the FBI are closing in on me as I speak. Anyway, enjoy!

_Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?_

-Henry David Thoreau

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><p>It had been three hours since Spike had been shoved into the van when he started his attempt to disarm the bomb. Cabe had uncuffed him and watched as he dragged himself to the middle of the floor within arm's reach of the bomb. He had had to stop twice along the way, because even with the splint, pain lanced up his leg every time he so much as twitched.<p>

But eventually he got there, and when he did, he just looked at the piece of metal in front of him for a long time. Then toward the ground, where all the tools he might need were laid out in front of him. "Why are you doing this?" He finally asked, looking up.

Cabe smiled. "I said I wanted this to be fair, darling, and I could hardly leave you to defuse it with just your hands, could I? Hence, the tools. I'm not a monster, you know."

"Of course not. Building bombs and trying to kill hundreds of children is completely normal. It's my hobby on the weekends, too." Spike spat at him.

"I'm afraid sarcasm doesn't become you, dear. So, maybe my tastes in entertainment are a _little_ eccentric- we all have our weaknesses. Mine just happens to be a bit more destructive than most. You really are overreacting." He grinned. "You better get to the bomb, dear. You don't have all the time in the world."

Spike looked at the bomb. "Why not?" He asked. "There's no timer. I can take all the time I need."

"Oh, sweetheart, you really don't understand, do you?" Cabe shook his head. "The police are going to find us eventually, you know. So unfortunately, I'm going to need to make arrangements to get out of here, and when the time comes…" He drew a finger across his throat. "I'm going to have to set it off, darling. I'm sure you understand. I'd say you have…" He looked at his watch. "Six hours."

Spike stared at him. "Six hours? It takes longer than that just for the phosphorus to neutralize- it's completely impossible, and you know it. I'm going to need at least ten, maybe eleven hours. And that's pushing it."

"Well, dear, you're going to have to find a way to make it work, because six is all you're getting. So tick, tick, tick. Time's a wastin'…"

Spike wanted to say something else, but something in the corner of his eye made him turn his head. It was Laurel, fidgeting quietly with her hands. He gritted his teeth, and turned back to Cabe. "Fine. Now get out- I need to start."

"No, I'm afraid not, love. We're going to stay here with you while work. Don't worry, though. We'll be a thoughtful audience. Won't we, Matthias dear?"

Spike didn't know what to say. "What? That doesn't make any sense- if I mess up, you'll be dead too."

Cabe shrugged. "Well, you're not going to _try_ to blow the bomb. Not with itty-bitty Laurel here with you. And if you're just not good enough, well, what's life without a little risk? Here, look at this-" He held up his shirt and exposed his stomach. It was twisted and knotted with scar tissue. "This happened a few years ago, when I was out demining in Eastern Europe. I'm sure you already know, darling; you seem the type to do your research. But did you know that no one else out there would go near that mine? I was the only one. I needed the… thrill, I guess. And as you can see, it didn't go too well. Almost died." He paused contemplatively. "But I digress. The point is, I'm okay with risks." He turned to Arbor, pulling his shirt back down. "Aren't you, Matteo?"

Arbor shifted uncomfortably. "I don't know, boss. Actually, I think I'd prefer to play it safe. Maybe we should leave."

Cabe cocked his head dangerously. There was a tense moment, and then he suddenly relaxed and patted Arbor on the knee. "Well, it's a good thing Mattie here doesn't really have a say in this, isn't it? Now Spike, dear, it really is time to get on with it. Go ahead, we won't bother you."

* * *

><p>"Greg, if you don't relax, you're going to kill us both." Ed said quietly. The other man didn't respond, tightening his grip on the wheel. "I mean it. Slow down." Greg barely glanced at him, but eased his foot off the accelerator some. They were still going seventy. Ed exhaled, and looked over to the driver's seat.<p>

"We're going to find him. We're going to find him and Laurel, and we're going to put Cabe and Arbor away for the rest of their lives. I'm sure of it. We're going to find him." Ed repeated.

Greg's expression hardened even further. "Or guess what else might happen, Ed? We don't. Or, we do, but he's lying facedown in some gutter, and maybe Laurel's with him, or maybe her body will turn up somewhere else. And they'll have died because we took too _goddamn_ long to run a simple search, and that'll be on us. So don't-" He cut himself off, going back to staring at the road in front of him. He was breathing heavily and his hands were shaking. "Don't tell me that we'll find him. You can't promise me that, so don't." A heavy, uncomfortable silence settled over the truck. When Greg spoke again, his voice cracked. "It's been hours, Eddie. Hours, and we have no idea where they could be. Not even a breadcrumb to point us in the right direction, and we can't do anything but wait and hope something turns up."

"But something will turn up." Ed said firmly. "We're going to find something, and you know as well as I do how resourceful Spike is. In fact, he's probably tying Cabe up somewhere right now, and will come marching up to us complaining how stupid evil geniuses are these days. I can picture it now." He smiled. "And you just know Laurel's going to be the newest addition to his fan club. Spike does have a way with the ladies. So we'll find him."

Greg didn't smile. "I hope so, Ed." He said quietly. "I really, really hope so."

* * *

><p>Two hours into his efforts to defuse the bomb, Spike had to stop and rest. His shirt was soaked with sweat, and his hands were trembling with exertion. The pain from his leg and rib had long ago been delegated to a small corner of his brain, but despite his best efforts, it had begun to seep into the forefront of his consciousness. So when he looked up from his work, he met Cabe's eyes.<p>

"I need a break." He said simply. "I can't keep this up."

Cabe studied him, took in the tremor in his hands, the way his breath hitched every time he moved, the complete lack of color in his face. He nodded. "You're right, dear. You do need a break. Okay, darling, take some time. Just remember, the clock's running." He stood up and stretched leisurely. "Actually, this works well. Mattie, dear, I'm going to have to leave for a bit. A lot has to happen before we can just skip the area, you know. I'm going to need to talk to a few people, grease the right hands, et cetera, et cetera." He looked to Spike as he rolled his eyes. "It takes so much effort, what I do. Oh, nobody ever thinks of the work involved. They think it's all steal, steal, steal, or blow up, blow up, blow up- whatever floats your boat- and they think little elves run around and get everything ready. I swear, I'm so underappreciated. Maybe I should have gone into a different line of work…" He mused, and then shook his head. "Nah. I love what I do too much. Anyway, darlings, I'm going to have to stroll. Don't worry though; I'll be back in plenty of time for the grand finale."

He spun dramatically on one heel, and flounced over to the door. As he was about to leave, he turned around and looked at Arbor, his expression completely flat. "Just so you know, Mattie dear, I made you. I brought you out of the gutter. I _found_ you. And I can find you again, if you leave. You walk out of here, and it will be the last thing you ever do. Understand?"

Arbor nodded nervously. "Of course, boss. I'm here to the end. You know that."

Cabe smiled pleasantly. "Thank you, love. Oh, and keep your gun out. If Spike tries anything, shoot Laurel. And if Laurel tries anything… well, shoot her. But leave our darling bomb tech alone. I like my toys in one piece. Adios, amigos!" And he swung out the door with a wave.

Arbor watched him go, and then turned back to Spike and Laurel. "You've got ten minutes." He said as he walked closer and pulled out the handcuffs again, fastening them roughly over Spike's wrists. "Then you've got to start again, so rest now." He went to the back of the room and sat down in Cabe's chair. He was absently twirling the gun in his hands, and Spike had the momentary hope that he would accidently shoot himself. But of course no such luck.

He looked over when Laurel tapped him on the shoulder. "Spike?" She asked quietly. "What were you doing to the bomb just now?"

"Well, Laurel, I was trying to defuse it. That means make it so-"

"So it doesn't blow up. I know that. I meant how? I just want to know what's going on- I don't like sitting here and feeling stupid."

Spike looked closely at her. "Are you sure you want to know? Even if I tell you, there are probably things you won't understand. Is that okay?"

"Yes." Laurel nodded. "And I do want to know. But only if you want to tell me, you don't have to."

"Okay, sweetheart. I don't mind." He paused, looking at the bomb. He tried to find the right place to start. He sighed, and decided there was no right place to start. "Well, notice how it's shaped kind of like a rocket, with all the different sections? That's because there are a lot of separate parts in the bomb, and they can't just be squeezed together or it might blow up." He looked over, but Laurel seemed to be following. "Okay, so the middle section, the big one, that's where most of the chemical is stored. If the bomb goes off, that chamber's going to do the most damage. But that's not what I'm worried about right now."

"See those little skinny cylinders that are attached all around the sides? Those are also filled with the chemical –which is called white phosphorus, by the way. But the thing with them is, they're designed to fall off pretty easily. And when one of them falls off, it activates a delayed implosion mechanism for the rest of the bomb."

Laurel just looked at him blankly, and he shook his head. "Sorry. That means that a sort of timer goes off in the rest of the bomb, and when it runs out, the whole thing explodes. Well, it implodes first, but that doesn't really matter. The point is that it's bad if one of them falls off, but I can't defuse the big bomb until that happens."

Laurel nodded. "I get it. So what are you trying to do?"

"Well, there are a couple of things." Spike said. "First off, I'm trying to extend the delay- put more time on that timer. Usually we would have about two minutes, but I've got it up to five, and I'm going see how much further I can go. I'll probably need ten minutes to defuse the big one, so we'll see what I can do. After that, I would need to take care of the little ones, one at a time. And that's pretty much it. Got it?" He smiled down at her.

"Yeah." She curled an arm around his. "Thanks for telling me. It makes me feel better."

"Anytime, sweetheart. Do you want to talk about how stupid Danny and Mattie are? That made _me_ feel better in the car."

Laurel giggled. "I think Danny is an idiot. Did I tell you I don't like idiots? He thinks he's really funny, but his jokes are dumb."

"That they are, Laurel." Spike grinned. "He's also really short. I think that's funny too."

"Yeah, it is. But do you know what? I think God made Mattie so tall because he felt bad about giving him such a small brain."

Spike laughed outright. The noise attracted Arbor's attention. "Why are you laughing?" He asked. "What's so funny?"

There was a short silence, and then Laurel piped up. "You." Arbor blinked, and then got up. He seemed huge in the small hold of the boat. All of a sudden, the mood went from light to extremely tense. Spike shifted subtly in front of Laurel.

"Don't laugh at me." Said Arbor. "I could hurt you pretty badly, you know." He started walking closer. "I think I will."

"Laurel, get behind me." Spike said quietly. "Now." As she shifted closer, he looked up at Arbor. "You know what Danny said, Mattie. You're not supposed to hurt me. He would be furious."

Arbor shook his head. "He wouldn't have to know." He had reached the pair of them, and crouched down in front of Spike. "As long as I don't leave any visible marks, I'm going to be fine."

"I'll tell him." Said Laurel from behind Spike. "If you hurt Spike, I'll tell him."

"Well, maybe I'll just shoot you first." Arbor started pulling his gun out from behind his back. "It wouldn't be hard. Boss even told me I could."

Spike snarled at him. "If you shoot Laurel, there will be absolutely no incentive for me to keep trying to disarm that bomb. The second I get within arm's reach, I'll detonate it. Did you know there's no kill switch, no safety mechanism? One movement, that's all it would take, and nothing you could do would prevent it from blowing us all sky high. I swear to god I will."

Arbor didn't know what to say for a minute. Then he grinned. "Well, nothing's stopping me from hurting the girl." He stood up and reached over Spike's head to grab Laurel. Spike didn't even pause. His good leg shot up and slammed into the bigger man's kneecap, and Arbor whirled off balance, howling in pain. Laurel immediately darted out from behind Spike and lifted up her hands to shove Arbor. Spike saw what was going to happen a second before it did.

"Laurel, stop!" He cried desperately, but it was too late. Laurel had put all her weight behind her, and when her palms made contact with Arbor's midriff, his feet went flying out from under him and his head slammed against the ground with a loud crack. Spike watched in slow motion as his arm, gun still in hand, followed suit, except this time it came down right on the bomb.

Or right next to it. The gun came down millimeters from the edge of the bomb, and then, as that slight bounce factor hit, lodged underneath it. Spike and Laurel were both frozen, eyes glued to the gun. The minute Arbor moved his hand, it was going to knock off one of the auxiliary cylinders.

Except he never moved his hand. There was long silence as they waited for something to happen, and then Laurel looked uncertainly at Spike. "I think I killed him." She said, her voice wavering.

Sure enough, Arbor was laying perfectly still, his eyes closed and his arms hanging limply where they had landed. Spike watched his chest intently. Then he looked at Laurel. "You didn't kill him. He's just unconscious." He examined Arbor's head. "He must have hit the ground really really hard."

"Will he be okay?" Asked Laurel.

"I think so, once he wakes up." There was another shocked silence, and then Spike snapped back into reality. "Laurel," He said urgently. "Go check the door. We need to get you out of here before he wakes up or Cabe comes back." Laurel ran over and pulled on the door's handle. She shook her head, and Spike cursed. "Okay, come back and search his pockets for the key. Make sure you don't jostle him or touch his gun arm."

She started going through his pockets, and after a moment, pulled out something that looked like a key. "Is this it?"

Spike looked at it for a second, and then shook his head. "That's the handcuff key. Here, come around behind me." As she did, he smiled. "You're doing great, Laurel. Okay, now see the hole there? Just put the- thank you, sweetheart." He brought his hands from behind his back and rubbed his chafed wrists.

Two minutes later, they had gone through all Arbor's pockets, and the key was nowhere to be found. Spike cursed again. "Cabe must have taken it with him. Okay… let me think for a minute…"

All of a sudden, he realized what he had to do. He closed his eyes. "Laurel, come here for a minute, okay?" She scooted closer, and he put a hand on hers. "Laurel, when you get out of here, you have to do exactly what I'm about to tell you, okay?"

"Okay, Spike." Her voice was completely trusting. "I'll do it."

He smiled at her. "First off, get as far as you can away from here. Then find somewhere with a phone. A house, a store, anything. If you see someone walking by, ask if they have a cell phone. Then you need to call the police. Understand?" Laurel nodded. "Tell them your name, and say you need Sergeant Greg Parker with the SRU. It has to be him, okay? Greg Parker with the SRU. Once he's there, tell him what's happened, and tell him as best as you can where we are. He'll take it from there, and everything will be okay. It'll be okay, and you're going to be safe, all right? Can you do all that, Laurel?"

She nodded. "Greg Parker with the SRU. Got it."

Spike squeezed her hand. "You're a special girl, sweetheart. Just know that. Now, I'm going to shoot the lock off the door, and then you've got to run, okay? You need to be out of here before Cabe comes back."

"But what about the bomb? To get to the gun you have to touch the bomb, so what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to touch the bomb. Remember I told you there was a delay? I'm going to have five minutes, and I'm going to try to drag it outside and push it into the water. White phosphorus can't hurt anything if it's underwater. But you'll be long gone by that point. You don't have to worry about it."

Laurel looked like she was about to cry. "Can't you just come with me? Then we could just leave the bomb."

"Sorry, sweetheart." Spike smiled sadly. A strange feeling was welling up inside him. "I wouldn't make it ten meters. But if you get Greg Parker, he's going to come over here and do his best to make sure I make it out okay. And he's the best at what he does. So it's going to be fine. Just make sure you get out of here, okay, Laurel? That's the most important thing."

"Okay, Spike. But I'm going to get him and you're going to be all right. I promise."

"I believe you, Laurel. Now, I'm going to give you the gun right after I shoot the lock. I want you to take it and throw it in the water. Do you remember everything?"

"Run, police, Greg Parker with the SRU, tell him where you are, gun in the water. Got it."

That same feeling had settled in his chest, and Spike didn't know what it was. He ignored it. "Thank you so much, Laurel. You're the bravest person I know." He leaned over toward the gun. "Are you ready?" She nodded, and Spike smiled at her.

He grabbed the gun out from under the bomb, and one of the cylinders dropped off. Before it hit the floor, though, Spike had aimed and fired, and the lock was gone. Laurel grabbed the gun and ran over to the door, but paused and looked back at the last second. Spike waved. "It's going to be okay, Laurel. Now go." And so she left.

Spike looked at the empty doorway for a second, and then turned back to the bomb. He grabbed the cylinder that had dropped off, and, once he had judged that Laurel was safely out of range, hurled it out the door. His rib screamed in protest, but he heard metal skittering across the wood and then a plunk as it landed in the water. He grabbed another cylinder.

Once all six auxiliaries were taken care of, Spike's vision was swimming from the pain, and the world was tilting dramatically around him. He thought he had about three minutes left on the timer.

He put an arm around the main chamber, and pulled it toward him. It tipped, but it was much heavier than Spike had expected it to be, and hit the ground hard very close to his face. He ignored the ringing in his ears and attempted to drag it out the door and toward the water.

Each meter was pure agony. His eyes had closed at some point, but he was still dragging, dragging, and it didn't feel like he was going anywhere. His leg was catching on every tiny protrusion in the wood, and all his weight was resting on his broken rib. Finally, he collapsed, and he knew he couldn't go an inch further. He opened his eyes. He had made it outside the hold, and was staring up at the clear night sky. Each breath was starkly visible as it left his mouth, and if he could feel any of his body, he knew he would be freezing. But a pleasant sort of numbness was settling over him, and the same feeling as inside was almost overwhelming, and god, what was it? He looked over at the bomb, and then to the edge of the boat. Two meters. So close, and yet he couldn't move any further. His body wouldn't let him.

He judged he had about a minute left. He looked back up at the sky. He had really never noticed how pretty it was. Then, he was interrupted from his reverie by a slight pitter-patter coming toward him on the wood. A rat, he thought. Docks have rats. But no, it was too big to be a rat. Maybe it was Cabe. Thirty seconds. At least he might take him down too.

But a few seconds later, the face that peered down at him was not Daniel Cabe's. Spike blinked.

"Laurel…" He groaned. "No, go away…. You… can't be here." His voice was slurred and weak. Laurel ignored him. Instead, she got down on her knees next to him and pulled the bomb out from under his arm. It was almost as big as she was, but she somehow stumbled to her feet, and Spike could only watch hazily as she lurched toward the side of the boat. He could hear the splash, and then, seconds later, the muted boom; he felt the boat rock violently. Then Laurel's face was above his again. The feeling in his chest was almost hurting him, but he still didn't know what it was, and he was telling Laurel to go, quickly. Then, all of a sudden, a wave of realization washed over him, and he knew.

"Laurel…" He said weakly, and she was back at his side. "I need you… to tell Greg… something for me. Please." She nodded immediately, and put her ear down close to Spike's mouth so she could hear what it was he wanted to say. When he was done, she nodded again. He smiled, and forced one hand up to gently clasp the side of her head. He brought it down so that he could press his lips against her forehead. "Go." He said when he let go. She was crying, but got up to do as he said, and Spike smiled at her one more time before she left. He had gone back to looking at the stars when he blacked out.

* * *

><p>Again, not a lot to say. I really really really appreciate all the feedback, so keep it coming! But seriously, thanks so much.<p>

Review review!


	27. Chapter 27

Well, I got this up pretty fast, but boy... Well, just read it. I'll say more at the bottom. Enjoy!

_Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?_

-Henry David Thoreau

* * *

><p>Arbor woke up before Cabe got back. Spike knew because when he was jerked back into consciousness, still lying on the deck of trawler, he saw Arbor's face above him and the man looked scared. He was yelling at Spike, but Spike couldn't really hear it because his head was hazy and his ears were ringing and he was pretty sure he had dislocated the ankle on his bad leg when he had tried to drag the bomb out. But Arbor wasn't shutting up, and so Spike's eyes fluttered open again and tried to focus.<p>

"Danny's gonna be so mad at you, Matt…" he slurred. "You better…" He trailed off, unable to finish. Arbor seemed to get his drift, though, and snarled as he grabbed Spike's arms and started to drag him back into the hold. Spike's eyes rolled back into his head as his leg caught on the doorframe, but Arbor wasn't having any of it.

He slapped Spike in the face as soon as they got inside and he had dropped him on the floor. "You don't get to go to sleep now." Spike gasped for breath, his eyes pressed shut. "Damn it…" said Arbor. "Damn it, damn it, damn it!" He kicked the wall next to Spike's head. Then he whirled around and began pacing violently, muttering to himself. Spike's eyes started to drift closed.

They shot open again as a foot connected with his stomach. "I said, stay awake!" Yelled Arbor. As Spike curled in on himself weakly, he struck out a second time. Spike didn't even have the strength to roll away, and the hit landed on his ribcage. He heard another crack, but the pain was dull, muted, and come to think of it, he couldn't really feel much of anything. He didn't have much time to ponder it, though, because the next one connected with his head, and everything immediately went black.

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry, sir, we've looked, we can't-"<p>

"Don't you _dare_ tell me what we can and can't do! You just keep doing your job, which, at the moment, is what I tell you-" Greg was cut off as his cell phone rang. He looked back at the uniform and jabbed him in the chest with a finger. "You run that search again, do you hear me?" Without waiting for a response, he turned away and picked up his phone. "What?" He barked.

"Sir, we've found her!" The man on the other end of the line was panting eagerly. "We've found Laurel Bennett!" Greg stopped dead for a full second. Then he was running for the car, shouting at Ed to come with him.

"Where are you? Is Constable Scarlatti there? What's she saying?" He was already swinging into the driver's seat, and Ed was coming up fast.

"We're at 221 Allandale Street, and no, Constable Scarlatti isn't here." Greg cursed, and Ed slammed his door shut. They were pealing off onto the street when the man continued. "As for what she's saying, sir, well, she's not. She says she'll only talk to you. We've got her warming up now, and she's in good condition, but- hold on. She's telling me you need to hurry up, sir."

"We'll be there in five minutes. Call her parents and get them to come down there. She'll want to see them." He waited for an affirmative, and then hung up. "They've got Laurel, Ed." Ed let out a hiss of relief. "Spike's not with her. But she'll know something, and-" He slammed his hand onto the wheel. "We are going to get this son of a bitch. Jesus. If he's done something to Spike…"

Ed shook his head. "Greg, you can't think like that. This is what we needed, and it's going to be okay." Greg barely glanced at him, and he pressed on. "He wouldn't have kept her alive if he'd- if Spike wasn't there anymore. You know that. Assuming the worst won't do anyone any good. All right?" Greg nodded. "All right. Now get yourself together before we get there. Laurel needs to stay calm, and you're not going to help her like that."

Greg loosened his grip on the wheel a little bit and attempted to slow his breathing down. But when they pulled up to the house, lit by the red and blue light of police cruisers, his heart was pounding in his chest and he was at the door before he realized he had unbuckled his seatbelt.

He knocked impatiently, and the minute a uniform opened it, was pushing past him. "Where is she?" He demanded quietly. "I need to talk to her now."

The other man gestured into the other room. "The owners of the place said she got here about twenty minutes ago. She's just getting warmed-" He was cut off as Greg jogged to the room in question. Before he entered, though, he stopped and took a deep breath. Ed patted him on the shoulder.

When Greg stepped in, Laurel had her back to him. There were probably eight other people in the room- police on the phones with their higher-ups, someone trying to get the girl to drink something, and two civilians looking extremely flustered. Greg guessed they were the owners of the house.

He walked closer to Laurel, and as he knelt down a few feet from her, spoke up. "I need everyone out of this room, now." His voice wasn't loud, but it carried above all the chatter, and everyone stopped what he or she was doing. "Now." They started to shuffle out, and Ed hurried them along from his place beside the door.

Laurel had turned around when he had spoken, and was staring at him, wide-eyed. "Are you Greg Parker? With the SRU?" Greg nodded and opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, she had launched herself toward him and was wrapping her arms around his neck.

* * *

><p>The next time Spike woke up, it was because someone was shaking him gently. He wasn't fully aware, and was drifting in and out of consciousness, but he knew it wasn't Arbor. <em>Cabe<em>, a voice in his head supplied helpfully. The man in question had peeled back one of his eyelids with the pad of his thumb, and was frowning as he examined the pupil underneath. He stood up, and Spike's world went dark again. He could still distantly make out some of what they were saying, though, and caught a few words here and there. _I leave you… Half an hour_…_Where's the… And the… Too late for sorries_…Spike couldn't understand what was going on. _I thought I… not to hurt him_…_Matt_… There was quiet for a minute, and he wondered if he had blacked out. But then there was a sound again, and was that whistling? The Beatles. Spike recognized it, even through his haze. With a Little Help from My Friends. Spike liked that song. He started to sink back under, but as he faded, heard a gunshot- Cabe must have brought another gun back with him. Then there was something warm seeping into the sleeve of his shirt, and he vaguely wondered what it could be before he was out again.

* * *

><p>Greg rocked back from the impact of Laurel's leap, but then recovered and put his arms around her as well. "It's okay." He murmured. "You're safe now. Don't worry. It's okay." When she pulled back, she had tears in her eyes.<p>

"It's not okay." She said. "We need to go find Spike. Can I tell you everything on the way to him?"

Greg swallowed. "Your parents are coming over here right now, Laurel. Don't you want to see them? You could tell me now, and then we wouldn't have to leave."

Laurel shook her head fiercely. "No. Spike's in trouble, and we need to get to him as soon as we can."

Greg paused and looked at Ed, who nodded. The team leader was talking into his headset, telling the rest of the team to follow them over. "All right." Said Greg. "Come on and hop in the car with us. I'll have one of the uniforms call your mom and dad and tell them what's going on." He pushed himself off his knees and shrugged off his coat. "Here." He said, wrapping it around her shoulders. "It's cold outside." Laurel stood up, but seemed a little wobbly on her feet, so Greg took her hand to lead her gently outside. When they got to the car, he lifted her into the back seat and climbed in beside her. Ed got behind the wheel.

"Do you know where Spike is, Laurel?" Greg asked softly. He didn't even realize he was holding his breath until she nodded.

"Yeah. They had us in a boat, by the docks." Ed had already pulled out from in front of the house. "But not the good part of the docks. It was empty and dirty and really really dark. I think it was right near the end."

"That's great, Laurel. Can you tell me what happened? Do you want to talk about it?" It was killing Greg to be so patient, but he knew he couldn't rush this. "It would help us a lot."

Laurel nodded. "Yes. Spike told me I should. Do you want me to start from when he put us in the car?" It was Greg's turn to nod. "Okay. Well, there are two guys. The big one is named Mattie, and the little one is named Danny. They tied up my hands with duct tape, and they put Spike in handcuffs. They put us in the back of the car together, and Spike was really nice to me. He told me not to be scared."

Greg smiled. "Spike is a nice guy, isn't he?"

"Yeah. Well, after that, they pulled us out of the car, and…" She faltered. "And Spike…"

A weight dropped into Greg's stomach. "What happened, Laurel?"

"Danny told Spike he had made a bomb, and that Spike couldn't defuse it. Spike told him something about his track record, I can't remember what. It made Danny mad." She shivered, and Greg put a hand on her shoulder.

"What happened, Laurel?" He asked quietly. "You need to tell us."

Laurel nodded miserably. "Well, Danny kicked Spike, and it knocked him over. Spike couldn't fight back, because he was still in his handcuffs, but Danny was still pretty mad about what Spike had said, and told him to apologize. Spike didn't." Greg could hear Ed hiss from the driver's seat. He felt the same way. "And then, Spike was still lying there, and he couldn't get up, and Danny is so mean…" She had tears in her eyes. "He just lifted his foot up and stomped down on Spike's leg. There was a really loud crack, and I could tell it was broken, and he was going to break his other leg too, but I was so angry, and I kicked him, and he didn't. But Spike was hurting really bad. When they put him in the boat with me, he wasn't awake anymore."

Greg had gone completely white. "Cabe broke his leg?" Laurel nodded, and he pushed his head back against the seat, eyes closed. He wanted to punch something hard, but Laurel was there, and so he reigned in his anger. "Okay." He said, and he barely kept the tremor out of his voice. "What happened next?"

"Well, Danny came in a little while later, and made Spike wake up. He showed him the bomb, and told Spike to tell me what it did to people. Spike wouldn't tell me, but Danny did. It was a bad bomb, Mr. Parker. It did bad things." Greg nodded. "But I wasn't scared, because Spike was going to take care of it, and no one would get hurt. But Danny got really mad at that too. I think he gets mad a lot."

"A lot of crazy people do." Greg was still pale as a ghost. "What happened when he was mad?"

"He tried to kick me, really hard. But Spike was there and he made it so that instead of hitting me, Danny's foot hit him. And he was really hurt again, but this time Danny was sorry, and wrapped it all up and everything. But he didn't wrap up the leg, and Spike couldn't do it, so I told Danny to untie me and then I wrapped it up."

"That was very good of you, Laurel." Greg had to stop for a minute and take a shaky breath. "Thank you. Did anything else happen?"

They were getting close to the docks.

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><p>Spike groaned as someone shook him again, and his eyes fluttered open for a second before falling heavily shut. The ground was rocking gently beneath him. Why was the ground moving? Because he was on a boat. Of course. But why was he on a boat? He couldn't remember. And he didn't have time to think about it, because someone was shaking him again, and talking to him. Funny. The person smelled weird. <em>Can't trust anyone… do your dirty work… police<em>… Wait. He was part of the police. But it was so cold, and he could feel himself starting to tremble, and wow, he must have been shaking a lot harder than he thought because now the hands were holding him down, and even then they couldn't keep him still. Then something hit his head hard, and he was gone.

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><p>"Spike worked on the bomb for a long time, but he looked really bad, and so Danny let him take a break. Then he left- Danny did- because he said he had things to do before they could get out of here without you catching them. So he left, but said he'd be back soon, and told Mattie to shoot me if Spike or me tried anything."<p>

"And so he was gone, and then Mattie got mad, and he was going to try to hurt me, but Spike kicked him really hard in the knee, and then I shoved him, and he fell and he hit his head and then he wasn't awake anymore either. But the door was locked, and he didn't have the keys, and so Spike told me he was going to shoot the lock off, and that I should run. Wait- it's behind that building there." Ed swerved.

Greg released his grip on her shoulder, because he thought he might hurt her. "And so you left? Is he still there?"

"That's not all, Mr. Parker." She sniffled. "After I left, he tried to roll the bomb into the water, because he needed to set off some sort of timer when he got the gun, and he couldn't make it to the edge of the boat, and-"

Greg's heart stopped beating. "He's dead?" He choked out. Ed slammed on the accelerator as they rounded the final turn toward the docks and the trawler came into sight.

Laurel grabbed his hand. "No, no, he's not dead. I came back and threw it into the water." Greg slumped back into his seat, and the car screeched to a stop. Ed was out the door and pulling his gun from the trunk in three seconds flat, and Greg opened his door and turned back to Laurel.

"Thank you so much, Laurel. You did such a good job today, and you should be so proud of yourself. Now you stay right here, and your parents will be here any minute, okay?" Sirens were approaching as the other members of the team and the uniforms came speeding up, and Greg closed the door and started barking out orders, jogging toward the water's edge. He was stopped, though, by Laurel's hand on his sleeve. "Laurel, you've got to stay in the car. It's too dangerous-"

"Mr. Parker, stop! Spike wanted me to tell you something. He said it was important."

Greg bent over and looked at her. "What did he say, Laurel?"

"Well, I don't know what it meant, but he said you'd understand." Greg continued to watch her, and she fiddled with her hands. "He said that he's sorry, and that he doesn't want to see Lou anymore." Greg just stared at her for another second.

Then he straightened up and turned away, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. "God…" He said lowly. "God." He didn't turn back around. "Okay, Laurel. Thank you. Now go get in the car, all right?" He motioned to a uniform. "Keep an eye on her, and make sure she stays safe." He was shaking.

Raf came running up to him, panting. "There's movement in the boat." He said. "At least one subject, and we're assuming Spike is in there too. We're guessing restrained or unconscious, or both." He took a deep breath. "We can't risk going in hard, but Sam is finding a perch. For now, we're going to have to negotiate." Ed had come up by this point as well.

"Do you want to take this, Greg? We can get Jules to talk if you want."

Greg shook his head. "No. I can do it. Take up positions on the pier, but don't get too close. If you get any chance whatsoever, you take it. We need to get Spike out. Has anyone called the paramedics?"

"They're on their way, but it's going to take them some time to get here. We're not exactly in the middle of the city." Raf answered. He was pulling out his gun.

Greg nodded grimly. "Tell them to hurry up. Okay, someone get me a bullhorn. I'm going to try to make contact." He walked over to the edge of the water. "Sam, how are you doing?"

"Still looking, boss. I'm going as fast as I can."

Someone came jogging up with a bullhorn. Greg took it from them and turned toward the boat, lifting it up. Then he put it back down for second and closed his eyes. It took a minute for him to get ready. Then he was talking.

"This is Sergeant Greg Parker with the SRU! I'd like to talk to you, but I can't see you; would you mind stepping out of the boat?" Nothing. "No one has to get hurt here today. We just want to make sure this ends peacefully, and then we can all get out of here safely. What do you say to that?" Still nothing, and Greg turned away briefly in frustration. "Matt, if that's you in there, we just want to talk, and to get our man Spike out of there. Can you understand that? Matt, you need to talk to us, so that we know everyone's okay."

Ed's voice crackled over the radio. "Door's opening."

"Thank you, Matt, we'll-"

Cabe's voice floated over the water, high and clear. "I'm afraid Mattie's a little indisposed right now." The door opened all the way. "But don't worry. I can do the talking for him."

"Greg, he's got Spike." Said Ed urgently. "We don't have a shot."

It was dark, but Greg could see everything as Cabe emerged from the doorway, holding Spike up in front of him with an arm around his ribs. He had a gun in his other hand, and was holding it to the tech's head. Spike was dangling limply in Cabe's grasp, arms handcuffed in front of him and blood running down his face from a gash near his hairline.

"Daniel, is that you?" Greg had to take a deep breath before he kept talking. "Thanks for coming out, Daniel. It makes it easier for us to talk. Do you think you could put the gun down?" Cabe had continued to walk out toward the edge of the boat. He was stronger than he looked; Spike was a dead weight in his arms, and he was moving him without too much trouble.

"Hold on one second, Greg." He called calmly. "Just let me get comfortable."

Jules whispered over the headset. "Boss, Spike isn't moving at all. All his weight is on his ribs and his leg is dragging along the ground- the pain should have woken him up by now. We can't even be sure he's still…" She trailed off, sounding sick, and Greg ignored her.

Cabe had gotten Spike over to the edge of the boat, and let him fall hard onto his knees. A hand on his collar held him upright, and Spike's head lolled lifelessly as Cabe adjusted his position. He was balanced precariously close to the edge of the boat.

"Daniel, we really need you to put the gun down. Spike looks pretty bad off over there; do you think we could send someone over to help him?" Greg was sweating, and barely keeping his voice steady.

"I'm afraid not, Greg dear." Cabe was wiping some water out of his eyes. Greg briefly wondered why he was wet at all, but pushed the thought aside. "See, Spike here is staying with me- we had quite the little game of chess going, didn't we? Well, consider this the endgame."

"Daniel, this doesn't have to be the endgame. We just want to make sure everyone gets out okay. It's not the end of the line."

"For me, it is." Cabe said simply. "I'm not getting out of here tonight."

"That's not true, Daniel. You still have the rest of your life. Don't throw that away. Please, just put the gun down, and we can figure this out. It's not over."

Cabe seemed to consider for a minute. "Okay." He called cheerfully. "I'll put the gun down." Sure enough, he swung it around in his hand before holding it up delicately with two fingers and then setting it gently on the ground next to him. Greg sagged a little in relief.

"Thank you, Daniel, that was-"

But Cabe wasn't done. "Don't come near me, though, because my hand might slip-" He let go of Spike's collar, and the younger man pitched forward, heading straight for the water. Everyone took an involuntary step closer, but Cabe caught him again at the last second and hauled him back onto the boat. Spike still showed no sign of life. "And that would be bad for our boy wonder here. He really isn't looking very good, is he?" He bent over and examined Spike's face, before slapping it lightly a few times. "Spike, wakey-wakey… Time to get up now, darling." Spike didn't react at all, and Cabe shrugged as he straightened up. He lifted a hand to wipe more water out of his eyes. "I'm afraid Mattie boy may have a bit overzealous when he woke up and found Laurel gone. And the bomb too, of course, we can't forget about that. Anyway, he was a little upset. But don't worry, I punished him for it." He lifted a hand and did an exaggerated, child-like mime of pulling a trigger. He grinned. "Needless to say, he won't be getting up."

Greg closed his eyes momentarily, and then lifted the bullhorn to his lips again. "Okay, Daniel. We can talk about that later. Why don't you just let us come pick up Spike there? If you want, we won't go near you- you can go into the hold and come back out when our guys have left. Is that okay with you? That's fair, isn't it?"

"I guess it might be, but I'm not really interested in fair. Now, our little darling Spike here and I have had a fun time of it. We really have. Well, I really have. It's been nice, having someone on my level again. Gives me something to strive for." He began rocking calmly back and forth on his heels, and Greg started to get a feeling that something was coming.

"Daniel, why don't we-"

"Hush now, Greg, daddy's talking. Where was I? Oh right, Spike. He and I, we're one of a kind. Well, that's not right, obviously; two of a kind. Did you know I just couldn't bring myself to shoot him? Even a few minutes ago, when I knew that this whole thing was over, and that he had ruined everything _again_? I couldn't do it. That's because he doesn't deserve a bullet to the brain. _We_ don't deserve a bullet to the brain. So, it had to be different." He paused, and Greg raised the bullhorn to his lips again.

"Daniel-"

"_Don't. Talk_." He hissed dangerously. "I'm not done yet." He paused again. "Anyway, it had to be different. So it will be. I always wanted to go out in a blaze of glory, you know." He smiled.

And all of a sudden, Greg realized that it wasn't water Cabe had been wiping out of his eyes. He lurched forward desperately, but it was too late. If he had been closer, he would have heard the click of a lighter, but he didn't need to be close to see Cabe light up like a match.

And yet, Cabe didn't let go of Spike. Even as he was being burned alive, he didn't let go, and now Spike's shirt was burning too. But the tech didn't react, didn't even twitch, and Greg could only watch helplessly as Cabe kept holding on and the fire spread.

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><p>I am perhaps the most evil human being on the face of the earth. After Cabe, of course. And Hitler, if he were alive. I would say I'm sorry, but I'm not. :)<p>

Reviews will make me post faster. They really, really will. And as always, I strive to achieve, so anything I could be doing differently, or that could be improved, let me know. You guys are the best. Thanks so much!

Review review!


	28. Chapter 28

The wait is over! We find out what happens to Spike, but let me tell you... Anyway, more notes at the bottom :) Enjoy!

_Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?_

-Henry David Thoreau

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><p><em>Previously:<em>

_And yet, Cabe didn't let go of Spike. Even as he was being burned alive, he didn't let go, and now Spike's shirt was burning too. But still, the tech didn't react, didn't move, and Greg could only watch helplessly as Cabe kept holding on and the fire spread._

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><p>There was a collective pause as everyone looked on in horror, and then came a frantic burst of movement. Ed was the closest to Spike, and was sprinting toward him, but it was obvious he wasn't going to get there in time. Greg couldn't take his eyes off Spike, and remained rooted to the spot- Cabe had collapsed to his knees, but had retained his grip on the other man's collar, and Spike's shirt was full on flaming now. He was going to burn just like Cabe.<p>

But then, out of nowhere, Cabe's arm jerked violently back, and Greg had just enough time to remember Sam before Spike slumped. The whole team watched in slow motion as the tech, unable to remain upright without support, listed sideways and slowly toppled over the edge of the boat. He was completely limp as he hit the water.

All the air left Greg's lungs. It was December, the water was literally almost freezing, and Spike had gone in face down and unconscious. The worst-case scenario was unfolding right in front of them.

But Ed didn't hesitate as he got to the edge of the dock. He threw down his gun and began yanking his vest over his head, yelling over the mic to get EMS there _now_. As he kicked off his boots, he turned to look at Greg. Then, without any further ado, he dove in after Spike.

The first time, he popped up almost immediately, eyes wide and gasping from the intensity of the cold. But then, he visibly steeled himself as he went under roughly where Spike had plunged in. And he stayed down.

Greg's chest was so tight he thought he might be having a heart attack. Spike couldn't be gone. He just couldn't. It didn't work that way, life didn't work that way, and it couldn't be happening. But Ed was still under the water, and Raf was running up the beach to join him, and Spike wasn't there, and god, he needed Spike to be there. Raf was muttering under his breath. It sounded like he was counting.

When he had reached a minute and twenty seconds, Ed's head came shooting out of the water. There was absolutely no color in his face, and he was gasping for air. And he didn't have Spike.

Raf groaned quietly as Ed took a minute to recover, and then went down again. Greg couldn't move. He just watched the surface of the water as if his life depended on it, and in a way, he thought hazily, it did. If Spike was dead… He didn't allow himself to finish the thought. His knees felt weak beneath him.

Now Jules was running toward them as well. She stumbled as she pulled up beside them, and Raf caught her and steadied her. He didn't look away from the water.

Ed couldn't stay down as long this time. When he came to the surface, Spike still wasn't with him, and his movements were stilted and clumsy, as if he couldn't feel his limbs. Jules looked at Greg as he went down for a third time. "He has to come back." She said weakly. "Any longer and he'll be gone too. It's too late for Spike, Sarge, you have to-"

Greg whirled on her, furious. "It is not too late for Spike, Jules! Don't even-" He shuddered. "Don't even…" He couldn't finish, and stared at her for a second before he went back to watching the water. Ed popped up again, and he was having trouble staying afloat himself. He had only been under for thirty seconds. Raf looked down at his watch.

"Boss…" He said quietly. "It's been four minutes. It's already at the upper limit of successful resuscitation. We have to pull Ed."

Greg couldn't even look away from the water. "But Spike…" He moaned brokenly. Neither of his teammates knew what to say to that, and Ed had gone down again before they looked back out.

They watched silently as the seconds ticked by. Greg could hear someone crying behind him, and dimly realized that Laurel must have made it out of the car again. He didn't turn around.

Twenty seconds came and went, and then thirty. Jules and Raf looked at each other in sickening realization, but couldn't bring themselves to move. The time kept ticking by, and at forty five seconds, Jules lowered herself to the ground, shaking so badly she couldn't stand anymore. A hush fell over the surrounding area as even the uniforms stopped what they were doing.

At a minute, Greg's legs gave out, and he took a stumbling step forward to keep himself upright. His feet ended up in the water, but he was already numb, and didn't even notice. No, no, no, no, this couldn't be happening.

Then, at a minute ten seconds, Ed struggled to the surface, and a second head came up with him.

There was another second of silence, and then uniforms were shouting, and Jules was scrambling up to her feet, and Raf was calling something, and Greg was murmuring broken prayers to himself.

But Ed's head went under again, briefly, and when it came up, he could barely keep his mouth above the water. Spike was dragging him down. But he kept pushing, and through sheer force of will, managed to get to shallow water. When his knees hit the ground, he collapsed, head going back under as he couldn't force his limbs to cooperate.

But then Greg and Raf were there, and Greg grabbed his shirt and hauled him up as Raf took Spike out from under his arm. Then they dragged both men onto solid ground, and Greg knelt down by Ed. His eyes were closed, and his lips were blue. Greg took his face in his hands. "Eddie…" He whispered. "Eddie, please…" Ed's eyes opened, and Greg sagged in relief.

"Spike." The other man was saying weakly. "Go take care of Spike. I'll be okay." His teeth started chattering. Greg looked up and saw uniforms running toward them, so, with one last look at Ed, nodded and turned around to where Raf was bending over their tech.

He wasn't breathing. Raf had uncuffed him, and had two fingers against his neck. As Greg stumbled over, he looked up and shook his head. Greg's heart dropped out of his chest. Raf was talking to him. "…Take compressions, I'll start rescue breathing." He was already getting into position by Spike's head.

Greg nodded dumbly, and dragged himself to kneel by Spike's chest. Raf was bringing his head down and pinching Spike's nose closed, so Greg settled his hands onto Spike's chest and started compressions. On his first thrust, he was almost sick as he felt ribs shifting and collapsing under his palms. He kept going, however, and tried to just focus on the job at hand, because as long as Spike was alive, they could deal with everything else.

But nothing was happening. He still wasn't breathing, and when Greg stopped to check his pulse, he didn't find anything. As the moments dragged on, he tried to remember how long someone could survive without oxygen. He thought it was six, maybe seven minutes at best, and most people didn't come back after four. They were going on six.

He pushed it out of his head, and kept pressing, and then Raf was lifting his head and backing away, and why was he doing that? He found out as someone grabbed his arms and yanked him off Spike, and a team of paramedics swooped in. He was still struggling, though, and was only distantly aware of a voice in his ear, telling him to stop, Sarge, and let them do their jobs, and you can't do anything more for him right now. It was Sam, he realized, and when had Sam gotten back?

But now the medics were taking Spike's vitals, and then pulling out a pair of defibrillator paddles and holding them to his chest. The tech's back arched as electricity shot through his body, but he fell back down to the ground limply, and someone was saying again, again. Greg's senses were slowly coming back to him, but he wished they wouldn't, because now he was aware of everything, and he didn't want to be.

Spike's chest rose again as the paddles jolted, but again, he fell back and his heart was still stubbornly silent. "Damn it!" Muttered one of the medics. "Okay, one more time, charge to 300." As they prepped for a third attempt, Jules was talking under her breath, saying come on, Spike, come on, come on.

As the final shock went through him, Spike lifted up even higher off the ground, but for the third time, fell back heavily with a dull thud. Greg's knees buckled, and Raf turned away, eyes pressed shut.

But one of the paramedics grabbed Spike's wrist, and after a moment's pause, jerked. "We've got a pulse!" He exclaimed, and there was an urgent flurry of movement.

"Still not breathing." Said another one. "Get some oxygen and bring over the backboard- we need to get him to the hospital stat. Come on, come on!" He called forcefully. In seconds, there was a backboard on the ground by Spike's side, and they were lifting him efficiently onto it. Someone was doing a cursory evaluation as they made their way over to the ambulance. "Hypothermic, multiple fractures in the right leg-"

He was cut off as Spike started seizing violently. The team watched in stunned silence as he knocked the medics off balance, causing them to nearly drop him and the board. "Shit- put it down!" One of them shouted, and then looked to Greg as he fell to his knees beside Spike. "Get over here and help hold his legs down. Now!" Greg snapped out of his stupor and stumbled forward, holding Spike's legs down and trying not to look as his mangled leg twisted gruesomely. He had to use all his weight, because Spike was arching up, and his legs were doing their best to follow. Someone was yelling again.

"We've got severe swelling of the brain, possible skull fractures- okay, he's stopping, get those restraints on and get him into the ambulance. Go now, come on!" As they raised the board into the ambulance, the lead medic turned around. "Is anyone riding with him? If so, we've got to move."

Raf shoved Greg in his direction, and the latter finally spoke up. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm coming with him." His voice cracked as he said it.

"Fine- get in now." He hopped in after Greg and slammed the doors shut. "Okay, let's go!"

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><p>"Sir, this is as far as you can go- I'm sorry, sir, but you've got to let the doctors do their jobs. There's a waiting room right there, and someone will be out to talk to you as soon as they know anything. Please, sir, sit down." A nurse was gently herding Greg back to said waiting room, and he couldn't even protest, his eyes still glued to the doors Spike had been rushed through. At the nurse's urging, he numbly turned around and took a seat on one of the benches lining the wall. She kept talking to him for a minute, but when he didn't even so much as twitch, squeezed his shoulder sympathetically and walked off.<p>

He just sat there, unmoving and hardly blinking, for almost ten minutes. Then, all at once, everything that had happened in the last hour hit him hard, and he slumped forward and barely caught himself from falling off the bench. He was gasping for air, and oh god, oh god, Spike, and Jesus, it was all his fault, he should have been faster, he should never have let him go in and try to defuse that bomb in the first place, and what was he going to do now, and oh god, Spike. He thought he might black out, and he curled his arms around his head, elbows resting on his knees, and what had he done? He just sat there, rocking back and forth as he tried his hardest to keep breathing.

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><p>That was how the team found him fifteen minutes later. Raf burst into the room first, followed closely by Jules and Sam, and then even Ed stumbled in, wrapped in multiple layers and mostly hidden under an orange blanket. He was the one that caught sight of Greg first, and immediately changed course.<p>

"Greg!" He called as he tried to jog over. Greg didn't react, still holding his head and rocking back and forth. Ed fell heavily to his knees in front of him, still shivering and pale. "Greg- Greg!" Greg slowly looked up, and Ed grasped his knees. "Spike, Greg, how is Spike?" Greg just stared at him, and Ed shook him a little bit. "Come on, we need to know!"

Greg blinked, and then took a shuddering breath. He looked at Ed and shook his head. The team leader stared, disbelieving. "He's… he's dead?" There was a hiss from behind him, and Greg slumped back against the wall.

When he opened his mouth to speak, his voice was uneven and barely audible. "No. Well, I don't think so. I don't know, Eddie. He wasn't doing good. He coded again on the way here."

Sam groaned softly, and then Raf spoke up. "If he were dead, they would have come out and told us already. He's not. He's not dead. I know it." He said stubbornly. Jules was nodding behind him.

A pair of nurses burst through the front doors. Greg shot to his feet before he realized they weren't the same doors they had taken Spike through. He sagged down again. But the nurses were looking around wildly, and when they caught sight of Ed, ran toward them. One of the pair grabbed Ed's arm, and the other one immediately began lecturing him on how he couldn't just walk away from the doctors- he needed to be checked out, because he had been too cold for too long. Ed started to argue, but stopped when he felt Greg's hand on his arm.

"Go, Eddie." Greg said weakly. "We'll let you know if anything happens." Ed opened his mouth, but then closed it again. He nodded, and the nurses pulled him out of the room, still clucking. Greg watched him leave blankly, and Sam and Jules sat down across from their boss. Raf started to pace up and down the length of the room.

Eventually, Raf sat down as well, and they waited in silence for a long time. Nobody seemed to want to talk, to move, to breathe. Greg was still staring vacantly into space.

An hour into their vigil, the doors opened again, and this time, it was Laurel walking in, accompanied by an older woman Greg assumed was her mother. Jules got up to intercept them, and as she talked quietly to the woman, Laurel slipped around her and made her way to Greg. She stopped a few feet in front of him, and he forced his eyes to focus, and his mind to clear, and he looked at her.

She had been crying. Her eyes were red and puffy, her cheeks were wet, and her bottom lip was still quivering. But she was attempting to put on a brave face, and Greg recognized and distantly admired her for it. He tried to pull himself together, because if she could do it, so could he.

"Is he okay?" She asked quietly. "Is Spike still…?" The quiver in her lip grew more pronounced. Greg nodded.

"He's still alive, Laurel." He hoped. His voice remained rough and faint.

"But is he going to be okay?"

Greg closed his eyes, because he thought if he looked at her he might cry too. "We don't know yet. We don't know, sweetheart." His voice broke. "The doctors haven't told us anything." He heard a sniffle, and then felt a slight dip in the thin cushions beside him. Before he could catalogue what it meant, Laurel had moved over and nestled herself against him. She was shaking.

He opened his eyes, and if he had had the energy, he would have been surprised. Instead, he just looked down at her and watched her bury her head in his shoulder. He paused, and then lifted her gently to put an arm around her, pulling her close. She needed the comfort, and to be honest, so did he.

When he glanced up, he saw her mother watching the scene, her expression inscrutable. He started to remove his arm, but stopped when the woman shook her head and smiled tiredly at him. Greg didn't smile back, but he was grateful for the gesture. As she took a seat on the other side of the room, he settled Laurel more comfortably against him.

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><p>They stayed that way for a long time. After another hour and a half, Laurel had fallen asleep, still pressed up to his side, and while he didn't move, he envied her oblivion. A knot had settled in his chest, and it was threatening to choke him, to bring him to his knees, because now it had been almost three hours and there was still no word from the doctors.<p>

He was trying to tell himself that the wait was a good thing, because it meant Spike hadn't died on the table (_yet_) and that they were making progress (_maybe_). But three hours was a long time, and it brought with it an overwhelming feeling of dread, because three hours meant complications. It meant things were very very wrong. But he tried to ignore the sensation, and to forget the feeling of Spike's ribs shifting under his hands, because focusing on those things wasn't going to do him any good.

At three and a half hours, Raf started pacing again. He was stony-faced, and his steps were harder and louder than usual. He quieted down, though, when Greg looked to him and then to Laurel.

At four hours, Ed came stumbling through the doors, accompanied by a disapproving nurse. He didn't seem to give a damn. His eyes immediately went to Greg, who shook his head mutely. The team leader deflated a little bit, and allowed the nurse to lead him to a seat. When he had settled, she covered him with a blanket, and he accepted it with bad grace. He was still silent.

At four and a half hours, a doctor walked in. Nobody noticed him at first, caught up in his or her own world, and it wasn't until he spoke that their heads jerked around. "Is there a Gregory Parker here- emergency contact for Michelangelo Scarlatti?"

Everyone shot up out of their seats, and Greg almost followed before he remembered Laurel. He settled her back against the wall, and then lurched up and stumbled toward the doctor. The man turned around to look at him. "Mr. Parker? Dr. Cooper."

Greg nodded jerkily, and the doctor glanced down ay his uniform. His expression was grim. Greg swallowed heavily. "How is he?"

"He's alive." The whole team let out their breath, but the other man wasn't done. "However, he just got out of surgery, and he isn't in good shape." He took a breath. "He came in with second degree burns to his torso, which shouldn't present any long-term consequences, and we were able to take care of a dislocated ankle, multiple fractures in his right leg, and four broken ribs on the operating table. But there were complications with the head trauma and the hypothermia." Greg heard Raf try to inhale behind him. The doctor looked him sympathetically, but went on.

"Because of the latter, his heart rate is still dangerously low, and he's not breathing on his own. We have him hooked up to oxygen, but the water in his lungs has exacerbated the problem, and we're not entirely sure that will be enough. But we think the hypothermia probably kept him alive long enough to reach surgery."

He paused, and Ed's eyes narrowed. "Explanation, please." He bit out through gritted teeth. Cooper nodded.

"His skull is fractured in two places, and it caused massive swelling in the brain, which in turn induced the seizures you saw. It would have almost certainly killed him but for the reduced blood flow to his head, courtesy of advanced hypothermia. When we began operating, we still had enough time to bring down the swelling before his brain pressed too hard against his skull. It's the reason he's still alive."

Greg couldn't help but exhale, but he was still clenching his hands into fists. "Is he going to be okay?" He asked, his voice low.

The doctor just looked at him. "The swelling is still a major issue. We've drilled holes in his skull to reduce it-" He raised a hand at the team's expressions. "It's standard procedure. The holes themselves won't cause any long-term damage or reduce function. We're just worried about the brain itself. The swelling may go down on it's own, but if it doesn't… there's nothing more we can do."

"When will you know?" Greg's voice was shaking, and his face was pale.

"The next 24 hours will be critical. After that, his chances improve dramatically."

"And the chances before then are…?" It was Sam who asked what they were all wondering.

"Professionally, I would say 50-50. But in my personal opinion, based on what I've seen, I think they're a bit higher." He smiled softly. "He's been through a lot, but he seems like a pretty resilient young man."

Greg nodded. "Can we see him?"

The other man hesitated, but after looking at Greg's face, nodded. "Okay. But one person only, and for ten minutes."

Greg looked around, and everyone nodded at him. He smiled gratefully and turned to follow Dr. Cooper through the doors. As he led him briskly down the halls, the doctor looked over at him. "He'll be sleeping, and you can't disturb him at all. And technically, I'm breaking the rules by letting you back here, so please, keep it to ten minutes." He kept walking until they reached an unmarked door, and before he went to open it, gently grasped Greg's arm. "I've got to warn you," He said. "He looks bad. You should know before you go in there." He released his grip on his arm. "I'll be waiting out here when you're done."

Greg nodded, and slowly turned the handle and walked into the room.

When he looked to the bed, he had to stop and take a deep breath. Dr. Cooper was putting it nicely when he said Spike looked bad. The tech's right leg was suspended a foot above the bed, and Greg could see the outline of the bandages under the hospital issued shirt. The most disconcerting thing, however, was Spike's face. He was deathly pale, with colorless lips, and there was a tube extending from his mouth to a machine next to the bed. There were large black circles under his eyes and his hair was plastered to his head, and the top and back of his skull was covered in bandages. If it hadn't been for the persistent beeps of the heart monitor, Greg would have said he looked dead. He shuddered.

But he glanced around and found a chair, and quietly pulled it up the bed. As he sat down, he looked Spike over once again, and decided it could be worse. It could be much worse. So his eyes softened, and his gaze roved over the body before settling on the younger man's chest. He sat there and just watched it rise and fall, letting the constant movement reassure him.

When the ten minutes were up, he put the chair back in place and turned around. And although the doctor had said not to disturb him, he couldn't help but reach down and gently brush Spike's hair off his forehead. There was no response, though, and so with one last look, he turned around and left, soundlessly shutting the door behind him.

Just as he had promised, Dr. Cooper was waiting for him, and began leading him back toward the waiting room. "You can come back tomorrow," He was saying. "But again, not for very long. He needs a chance to recuperate, and like I said, these next twenty-four hours are critical. We can't afford to let anything go wrong." They had reached the doors again, and before they went through, this time it was Greg who grasped the other man's arm.

"Thank you." He said quietly. "Thank you."

Dr. Cooper just smiled. "Just keep pulling for him. I think there's a good chance he'll make it through." And he reached out to open the doors, walking with Greg back into the waiting room.

* * *

><p>No cliffie this time! Or at least, no cliffie in my opinion. Again, it was more research time for me (yay!), so most of the medical stuff is pretty accurate. Thank you so so much for the feedback on the last chapter, and please, continue to leave more!<p>

Review review!


	29. Chapter 29

Another chapter up fast, but all is not well in the world. Or, at least, for Spike. Thanks for all the comments and feedback! More at the end. Enjoy!

_Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?_

-Henry David Thoreau

* * *

><p>Greg refused to leave the hospital that night, despite the rest of the team insisting that there was absolutely nothing he could do until tomorrow, and that there was no use in running himself down now. He told them that if anything happened in these twenty-four hours, he wanted to be the first to know about it, and I'm sorry, but you can't change my mind. So one by one, they left, shooting wary glances back at him as they walked out. Ed offered to stay, but Greg shook his head and told him to go home to Sophie.<p>

He was just about to go sit back down on one of the benches when someone tapped him on the arm from behind. Greg turned around and immediately felt guilty; he had forgotten about Laurel. Her mother was holding her hand, and she was still wearing his coat. The sleeves came down a good foot further than her hands, and the hem rested at the back of her knees. She was looking up at him.

"Will Spike be okay, Mr. Parker?" She asked quietly, still blinking the sleep from her eyes.

"We're not sure yet, sweetheart." He tried to smile when she let out a small, shuddering sigh. He crouched down, and was just about to say something else when she beat him to the punch.

"Thank you." She said. "For helping me today. And for helping Spike. I like him a lot."

"So do I. And Laurel?" She blinked at him. "You don't have to thank me. I should be the one thanking you. Without you, I don't think Spike would have made it off that boat. So thank you. You were very very brave today, and you should be proud of yourself. Okay?" She nodded, and he reached out and squeezed her arm. "Good. Now go home and get some sleep." He stood up and quietly addressed her mother. "You've got a very special kid there, Mrs. Bennett."

She smiled. "I know. She likes you a lot, you know. You and Spike. She's not usually this good with strangers." She looked down, and Laurel was leaning heavily against her. Greg doubted the girl was hearing a word of what they were saying.

"Is she going to be okay?" He asked. "She saw…" He was about to say a man drown, or set himself on fire, or shatter someone's leg, but decided against it. "She saw a lot today."

The woman nodded. "She did. But I think she'll be okay. We'll see how she deals with it as time goes on."

Greg paused for a second, and then made a decision. He turned around and jogged to the nurse's desk, and when he came back, he had a sheet of paper and a pencil in his hand. "If she ever needs someone to talk to, or a friendly face, or anything at all, call me." He scribbled his name and number down, and handed it to the other woman. "Whatever it is, you can call me. I mean it."

She took it gratefully, and then bent down to Laurel. "Hey, baby, time to give Mr. Parker his coat back, okay?"

Before Laurel could move, Greg stopped her. "No, let her keep it. It's cold outside, and she needs it more than I do. No- it's fine." He said when Mrs. Bennett opened her mouth to object. "Really, it is. I want her to have it."

Laurel looked up at him sleepily. "Thanks, Mr. Parker." She mumbled. "Please, Mom, it's warm. I like it." Greg smiled, and took a tired step back.

When Mrs. Bennett started herding her towards the door, Laurel looked back one more time, and Greg waved. "Goodnight, sweetheart. Tell your mom if you want to talk to me." She nodded, and he watched until she made it out the door. Then he went back to the desk.

"Ma'am?" He asked, and she looked up. "Can you make sure I'm notified of any changes in Michelangelo Scarlatti's condition?" When she nodded, he smiled gratefully and went back to take a seat.

As he sat down, he distantly heard his phone buzz. When he fished it out of his pocket, he exhaled slowly. Four missed calls and three text messages, all from Dean. The last one had come five minutes ago. He hit dial, and Dean answered on the first ring.

"Hello? Dad?"

"Hey, Dean. What's up?" God, he was so _tired_.

"Dad, it's one in the morning- where are you? I was scared you'd been shot or something, and that you were in the hospital." Greg closed his eyes.

"Dean…" He said, and had to stop. He took a deep breath.

"Dad, what is it? Are you hurt? Come on, Dad, what's wrong-"

"No, buddy, I'm not hurt. I'm just…" He had to push the words out. "Dean, I am in the hospital. No, Dean, stop-" He tried to talk over his son. "Dean, you've got to listen to me, please, just listen to me. Please." The other end of the line slowly went quiet. "I'm not hurt. I promise. I'm just here for…" He took another shaky breath.

"Spike's been hurt really bad, Dean." He finally said. "I'm staying the rest of the night- I need to be here in case… well, in case something happens." There was no reaction from Dean.

Then, "I'm coming over. Now."

"I'm sorry, but you can't do that. I'll keep you updated, just don't come over here."

"Too bad, Dad. I'm coming over. Do you want a change of clothes? Never mind, I'm bringing a set anyway. I'll be there in half an hour." Greg had never heard Dean so determined in his life. "Are you in the emergency room?"

"No, I'm in a separate- hold on, Dean, no, you should be staying home. It's late-"

"It's a Friday night, Dad. I don't have school tomorrow. I'm coming, and there's nothing you can do about it. Now bye. I'll see you in half an hour." And the phone clicked off.

Greg slowly lowered it away from his ear and blankly stared at it as he held it in his lap. Was it really one in the morning? He shook his head. It didn't matter.

* * *

><p>Before he knew any time had passed, Dean was running through the doors and sliding to a stop as he saw Greg.<p>

"Dad, what's wrong, how was Spike hurt, how bad is it, is he-"

Greg raised a hand wearily, and Dean stopped talking. "Dean, I don't know how to… how to explain all this. It's been a really, really long day, and month, and year, and there's just too much. I wouldn't know how to start."

"Just start from the beginning, Dad. We have time." Said Dean as he sat down next to him. Greg couldn't argue with that, so he started from the beginning.

He told Dean about the mines at the school, and how Spike had taken care of them, and how the team had thought he was dead and how relieved they were when he wasn't. He told him about Cabe, and about Spike leaving, and about him coming back three weeks later. He described the note on the second bomb, and the part about Spike being given a choice between himself and the building, and how Spike had seen his mistake, but had just broken down after he got out. He told him about the third bomb, except it wasn't really a bomb, and how Cabe had taken Spike and a little girl to a boat, where he had the real third bomb, and how he had broken Spike's leg and then his ribs. He told him about Spike knocking Arbor unconscious and then getting Laurel out safely, and then about the team's mad rush to the docks, except it didn't really help, because Cabe was there, and Spike was so far gone that he didn't even twitch when Cabe lit himself on fire. He told him about Spike falling into the water, and how Ed had gone in after him and brought him back to shore, and how Spike wasn't breathing and he didn't have a pulse, and how the paramedics came and they started his heart again, but they couldn't get him breathing. He told him about the ride over here in the ambulance, and how Spike coded again and how he had been rushed straight back and Greg hadn't been able to follow him.

As he was telling Dean all these things, he distantly thought that he shouldn't be, that Dean was too young to hear it and to carry that burden with him. But he kept talking, because once he started he couldn't stop, and Dean just listened and never tried to interrupt, because he realized how important it was for him to just get it all out there.

When Greg reached the part about the doctor coming out with the news about Spike, his breath hitched, and he buried his face in his hands. He hadn't had the time or the awareness to really process anything yet, and now that he was being forced to, it was more than he could handle. As he started shaking, Dean just put a hand on his back and started rubbing comfortingly, waiting until he was ready to talk again.

When Greg straightened, Dean spoke quietly. "Is he okay, Dad? Will he be okay?"

"I don't know. I just don't know. The doctors are saying it's about 50-50, maybe a little higher. But I went back to see him, and he looked bad, and it's just so hard to make myself believe that everything's going to be okay. You didn't see him on that beach, Dean. It was… it was beyond horrible."

"I can't imagine. If I had been there, I don't know how I would have dealt with it. But all we can do now is wait, and hope. We'll get through this, Dad. And Spike will too."

Greg nodded weakly, but didn't say anything, and the pair of them lapsed into an anxious silence. Even when the clock passed two, and then three, they didn't speak, and eventually, Dean drifted off in his seat, leaning awkwardly against the wall. Greg was exhausted, but still, he didn't sleep, couldn't sleep, because Spike was in that room attached to all those machines and he needed to know if something went wrong.

* * *

><p>Something did. At four-thirty in the morning, Dr. Cooper came slowly through the doors, and looked around. His face was haggard, and he had bags under his eyes. Greg was out of seat and at his side in two seconds flat. The movement jostled Dean, who also leapt up to meet them.<p>

"Mr. Parker?" He doctor asked, his voice rough.

"Yes? What's wrong? Please, you have to tell me-"

"I'm trying to." Dr. Cooper said, and Greg shut up immediately. "There have been some… issues."

Greg paled. "Is he-" He couldn't get the word out. "Is he still…?"

"Yes, he's still with us. But we had to take him back to surgery, and we were afraid that it might have been too-" He stopped himself, and reached up to rub at his eyes. "Well, it's a non-issue now. But it wasn't looking very good."

"What happened, Doctor?" Dean asked quietly. Greg was ashen beside him.

"He had another seizure about two hours ago. We weren't expecting it- we had given him anticonvulsants, and they should have stopped anything like that in its tracks. We still don't know why they didn't. But it shook up his head pretty violently again, and he reinjured his leg. We've been trying to fix the damage for the last two hours."

"And…?" Greg didn't know if he really wanted to know, but he had to ask.

"It was touch and go for a while, but we stabilized him. We actually had to remove a piece of his skull to let the fluids drain out, but we've replaced it with a synthetic. It won't affect him in the long term."

Dean smiled, relieved, and began to say something, but the other man stopped him. He still looked grim- he wasn't done.

"We can't afford to risk any more seizures, because his brain can't handle any more trauma- not even the slightest bit. You don't know how lucky we were to get it under control this time, and we won't be able to do it again. But we still don't know why the anticonvulsants didn't work, so we had to resort to a different approach."

"What does that mean?" Asked Dean.

Dr. Cooper paused for a moment before going on. "We had to induce a coma. Normally, we wouldn't risk it, considering the state of his lungs, but it was our only option. I wouldn't have done it if there had been any other way." He looked at them tiredly.

"A coma?" Greg asked, and his voice cracked. "When will he wake up?"

"Assuming there aren't any more problems, we'll bring him out of it in a week, but we can't guarantee he'll wake up immediately. It depends on his body and what its limits are- it's impossible to know exactly when."

"But he will wake up, right?"

Dr. Cooper paused again. "We're almost sure of it."

"What do you mean, _almost_? Almost isn't good enough-"

Dean stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Dad." He said.

And Greg looked at the doctor, and realized for the first time how tired he seemed, and how beaten down. This had taken a toll on him, too. He swallowed.

"I'm sorry." He said quietly. "I don't blame you. It's just that… Spike…"

"I know. And it's okay. It really was the last resort, or I wouldn't have tried it. I can understand why you're upset." He seemed to be finished, and so Dean thanked him, and he turned to go.

"Wait- Doctor. Can you let us know if anything else happens?" Dr. Cooper nodded, and then he was gone.

* * *

><p>Poor Spike! Actually, this whole chapter was originally part of the last one, but I decided to separate them because a) I thought it would be too long, b) I thought the transitions would be jarring, and most importantly, c) I didn't want to leave you guys with the millionth cliffhanger in a row. So you should thank me :)<p>

I really appreciate when people comment, even if it's just to say they're reading. It means a lot to me. That said, if you have any critiques, please, share. I like to know which parts work and which parts don't. Thanks so much, everybody!

Review review!


	30. Chapter 30

Hey all! Thanks for the great reviews, as usual. More at the bottom. Enjoy!

_Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?_

-Henry David Thoreau

* * *

><p>Greg spent much of the next week in the hospital. He knew that Spike wouldn't wake up, and that it wouldn't necessarily do any good to be there, but still, he couldn't bring himself to leave. So as often as and for as long as the doctors would let him, he sat in the uncomfortable chair by Spike's bed and kept vigil.<p>

Dean would come in everyday to sit a while with him, and when he was done, would drag Greg home to eat a full meal and get cleaned up. He was adamant about it, and the older man learned early not to protest, and just did as his son said. It occurred to him one day that this was the opposite of what a normal parent-child relationship usually was, and he brought it up in the car.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Dad?" Dean didn't look away from the road.

"When did you get to be so mature?"

Dean blinked, and then started to laugh. "Dad, you grounded me last week. How can you say now that I'm mature?"

"Well, I grounded Spike too, you know." Greg thought about it. "Actually, I guess that doesn't mean much. When he's around you, he acts like he's twelve."

"See?" Dean was still chuckling. "Case in point."

"No, but seriously, Dean. When _did_ you get to be so mature?"

Slowly, the smile left Dean's face as he considered. "I don't know, Dad. I think coming here to live with you forced me to grow up some. Down in Dallas, Mom would coddle me all the time, and wouldn't let me leave the house without knowing where I was going. Here though, you're not around a lot of the time, so it leaves me up to my own devices."

Greg winced. "I'm sorry, Dean, I-"

"No, no, it's not a bad thing. I like having some freedom. Plus, I know how important what you do is. I don't have any problems with it. And all the coolest guys I know work with you. Spike especially." There was a long pause as the conversation petered out. After a few more minutes, Dean spoke up again. "Dad?"

Greg raised his eyebrows, and Dean took a breath.

"Why did Spike become a cop? Actually, why did you become a cop? No one ever talks about that part."

"God… that's a weighted question, Dean. I think that…" He stopped to think for a minute. "I think that everyone who does what we do started out just wanting to help people. That's the fundamental principle of the job. You really have to want to help people. Beyond that, though, it's different for every person- Spike joined because he knew bombs. In a way, he loved them, and he still does, but he knew what they could do, and he wanted to stop them from hurting people. So he joined the police, and now he's saved hundreds, if not thousands of lives, because he couldn't sit by and let explosives hurt people. Spike has a massive regard for life. It's one of the things that makes him so special.

"But a lot of people join up because of one incident, because of one thing they saw happen, and the fact that they couldn't stop it. Fear is a powerful motivator, and those people are afraid that they're not going to do enough, to be enough, and so they try to make a difference by joining the force. It really does depend on the person."

"What about you?" Dean asked quietly.

Greg stopped and looked over at him. "Has your Mom told you anything about me before you were born?" When Dean shook his head, he leaned back in his seat. "Okay. Well, it's a long story, but suffice it to say, I had a few bad things happen to me as a teenager, and the police went out of their way to help me. I wanted to be able to do that for other people."

"Does Spike know?" Dean didn't look over.

"What?" Greg asked, confused.

"You said it was a long story. Did you tell Spike the story? Does he know what those 'few bad things' were?"

Greg nodded slowly. "If it's important to you, I can tell you too, Dean. I don't want-"

"No, you shouldn't tell me. I can tell you don't think I should hear it. And that's okay, Dad. It really is. I don't mind not knowing. I'm just glad you told someone, that's all, and Spike seems like a good sort of person to tell a secret to."

"Well, Dean, it's not a secret, I really can tell you if you want-"

"Have you told anybody other than Spike?"

Pause. "Well, your Mom knows a few bits and pieces, and so does Ed, but no, I guess not."

"Then it's a secret. Again, I don't mind. Dad, I'm not saying this to make you feel guilty about not telling me." He said when Greg tried to interrupt. "I really don't think you should. That's the truth." Greg opened his mouth to respond, but then closed it again. He couldn't think of the right thing to say. The car lapsed into silence again. They were almost home when Dean spoke up.

"Are there other reasons why people join the police?"

"Well, yes, plenty. Why all the questions all of a sudden?"

"No reason." Dean answered quickly. "Just curious, that's all. Here, we're home, let's get some dinner and then maybe you can get a few hours' sleep before heading back to the hospital." He hopped out of the car before Greg could react, and the older man stared suspiciously after him. But he decided not to pursue it, because he hadn't gotten more than eight hours sleep in three days, and he was tired. So he followed Dean upstairs and sat down with him for dinner, and when Dean refused to let him leave again before getting some sleep, he didn't argue too long or too hard.

* * *

><p>On the fifth day, the doctors came in and told Greg that Spike was doing well, and that they were going to bring him out of the coma in two days as planned. They warned him again that he might not wake up right away, but Greg waved them off and went back to sitting quietly by the bed. He didn't want to hear about things that might go wrong.<p>

Later that day, Ed came by and sat with him for a little bit, because Holleran had given them all time off because of what they had to go through with Spike. It wasn't enough, but they were taking what they could get. Everybody had come by to see Spike, and Raf had come every day so far, but since he was still asleep and couldn't possibly know the difference, no one stayed for long.

But today, Ed didn't leave for two hours. He spent most of the time in silence, and Greg appreciated that; Ed had never felt the need for empty platitudes, and if had started talking now, it would have been acknowledging that something was different. Greg didn't want different. He wanted Spike to wake up, and come back to work, and for everything to be the same again. Even if that couldn't happen, even though it wouldn't happen, he wanted to pretend. And because Ed let him, he was grateful.

* * *

><p>Team one was supposed to go back to work on the seventh day. Greg called Holleran the night before and told him he was taking some of his leave, and that he didn't know yet when he was going to be back in. His tone brooked no argument, and Holleran couldn't say anything anyway, because Greg hadn't taken more than a day off of work in almost ten years. He had enough time saved up to stay away for months, if he wanted to.<p>

So Greg was there when the doctors came in and started talking quietly but efficiently to each other, snapping off technical terms as they jotted down notes on Spike's chart. One of them was moving toward the IV that was hooked up to his arm, and another was at the ventilator that was keeping Spike breathing. Greg looked around helplessly, having been shoved into a corner by the door, and eventually Dr. Cooper took pity on him and broke away from the group.

"Everything's procedure at this point." He said quietly as he came to stand next to him. "Mr. Scarlatti- you said his name was Spike? – is breathing on his own now, albeit weakly, and so we're going to take him off the oxygen. He might need to go back on at some point if his lungs don't recover as fast as we'd like, but we're hoping for the best. That's what that doctor is doing." He said, pointing at one of the many white coats. "That one by the IV is adjusting the types and dosages of the drugs we have him on. Up until now, we've kept him under with a drug called barbiturate pentobarbital-" He smiled at Greg's expression. "I know, it's a mouthful. Anyway, it's the strongest narcotic we have, short of something that would kill him. So we're taking him off that, and putting him on a mixture of morphine and sedatives, which should keep the majority of the pain at bay and control the swelling in the brain. There's actually a third drug that we're going to need to use called phenytoin- a type of anticonvulsant- but that has to be injected separately a couple times a day, so we're not doing anything with that right now. And that's just about it."

"That's just about it?" Repeated Greg weakly.

"It seems like a lot," Dr. Cooper said sympathetically, "but it's all necessary, and we'll be weaning him off most of it once he wakes up."

"When do you think that's going to be?"

"I know this sounds weak, but we really don't know. It could be later today, or it could be three weeks from now. There's just no way of accurately measuring it, because it varies too much from case to case. It's up to him at this point. I'm sorry I can't tell you more."

"It's not your fault." Greg murmured quietly. "Can I stay here until he wakes up? I want to be there when it happens."

Dr. Cooper looked over at him. "I'm not going to stop you from staying, but it might be awhile. " Greg nodded, and the doctor sighed. "Okay. I'll let the nurses know, but you can't let yourself go waiting for him. It won't help either of you, so make sure you're sleeping, eating, the whole deal. I'm a doctor- I'll know if you aren't, and I'll do something about it. Understand?" He asked sternly. Greg just nodded again, not looking away from the bed. The doctors were almost done there.

Dr. Cooper said a few more things, but Greg wasn't really listening, and in a few minutes, the room was empty again, except for him, Spike, and the ever-present beep of the heart monitor. He dragged his chair closer again, and examined the newly barbiturate something-or-other-free occupant of the bed.

After the second seizure, a week ago, the doctors had had to shave Spike's head to be able to saw a chunk of his skull off. Greg still shuddered every time he thought about it, but in reality, it wasn't as bad as he thought. There was a large angry scar on the back of his head, just to the right of the spinal column, but when the hair grew back in again, Greg doubted you would even be able to see it. Same went for the other, smaller, scars that the doctors had had to drill during the first operation. And once you took your eyes off those blemishes, Spike really was looking a lot better.

Some of the color had returned to his face, and his lips were no longer dangerously blue. The burns that poked up above the hospital's paper shirt looked less inflamed than they had, and a nurse had taken off one of the layers of bandages surrounding his ribs that morning.

The leg was the only thing that didn't look any better. It was still raised above the bed, resting in a sling, but there were metal rods sticking out of it in multiple directions. When Greg had first seen it, he had turned around to find a doctor, because obviously this was some kind of joke, and ha ha, it wasn't funny. But no, it wasn't a joke, and the rods weren't permanent, they said. There were too many fractures for the leg to heal in an even semi-straight line without outside support, and the metal was holding everything in the right place long enough for it to begin healing. Then they could take them out, the doctors said, and it would only take a quick little surgery and leave a couple of scars.

Greg wanted to hit them. Spike didn't need any more scars. But when Dr. Cooper told him how close they were to losing the leg in that second operation, Greg had shut up quickly, because really, what were a few scars compared to a leg?

So Greg finished his examination and sat back in his seat, preparing himself for a long wait.

* * *

><p>Nothing happened for the rest of the day. Spike didn't so much as twitch, but Greg told himself, hey, he's breathing on his own for the first time in a week, and baby steps. It it's only the first day, after all.<p>

On the eighth day, Raf came in before shift to visit for an hour, and Greg took the opportunity to go and get some hospital mush that was incorrectly labeled food. He made a mental note to call Dean later and ask him to bring something over that didn't resemble white applesauce.

When he got back to the room, though, Raf shook his head- no change. Greg nodded and took back the seat when Raf stood up to go. The younger man told him he'd be back tomorrow.

In the evening, Sam and Jules came together, but only stayed for a few minutes. They were apologetic, saying that they had a dinner they had to go to, or they would stay longer, but Greg told them that they were nice to come in the first place, and go enjoy your dinner. As they left, he realized how grateful he was for his team. They really were a family.

On the ninth morning, Dean came and stayed for a few hours, bringing some of his weekend homework with him and lounging on the hard floor of the hospital room, munching on one of the apples he had snuck in for his dad. He had stashed the rest at the top of the closet, where the nurses were less likely to find them. They had confiscated the bag of oranges he had brought last time. He and Greg chatted easily for a while, and Greg even went home for an hour to take a shower that he could stand up in without having to navigate around a handicap seat. He was back fast, though, and Dean left a little bit later.

On the tenth morning, Greg took an apple down played with it a little bit in his hands, tossing it back and forth and rolling it around. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to eat it, but he had a vague feeling that he should. He was debating the issue in his head, absently staring at Spike, when he thought he saw a movement. The apple went skittering across the floor as he leapt to his feet, lurching closer to the bed. He was sure- he was sure- Spike's eyelids had moved- he had seen it-

But the tech's face was as placid as ever, and so after an anxious minute, Greg sat back down again, his stomach roiling. He didn't even think of eating anymore.

The tenth night, Greg was just drifting off to sleep in the uncomfortable hospital chair when he heard a noise. His eye's shot open again, and sure enough, this time it was Spike.

The younger man's brow was furrowed, and he was softly moaning as his head weakly twitched from side to side. He was having a nightmare, Greg realized. I took him a moment to react, but then he was reaching a trembling hand out and setting it on Spike's arm. He tried to say something, but nothing was coming, and it looked like he didn't need to anyway, because at Greg's touch, Spike stopped twitching, and his featured gradually relaxed until they were as slack as ever.

Greg's heart was beating so hard he was surprised it hadn't burst out of his chest. He kept his hand on Spike's arm for a long time before realizing that he should probably call a doctor.

Even as he reached up for the call button, he couldn't blink, couldn't take his eyes off Spike, and couldn't stop that funny sensation from rising up in his chest.

He had almost forgotten what hope felt like.

* * *

><p>So Spike is alive! Whooo! And again, no cliffhanger... :D<p>

Also, I've written and am thinking of publishing -well, not an alternate ending, because the story hasn't ended- but a way it _could_ have ended. Thoughts? Good? Bad? It would probably be a separate doc, and might function as a stand-alone... I'm not sure yet. Anyway, let me know. You guys are the best! And again, reviews keep me highly motivated :)

EDIT: I've gone ahead and posted it, under the name For That Which Has Been Your Delight. Head on over and check it out (After you've reviewed this, of course :) )!

Review review!


	31. Chapter 31

Sorry this chapter is up so late... :( I'll try to have the next one up sooner. Remember, reviews make me write faster!

Just a few more chapters to go...

_Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?_

-Henry David Thoreau

* * *

><p>"This is a good sign, Greg." Dr. Cooper had pulled up another chair next to Greg's, and was absently scribbling some notes on a clipboard as he watched Spike. "This is really good. Any movement at all would be an improvement, but you said he responded to your touch?"<p>

"Yeah." Greg looked over at him. "I think he was having a nightmare- he seemed upset- and when I put a hand on his arm he quieted down. But I…" He stopped himself. "It could have just been a coincidence. I don't want to…"

Dr. Cooper's expression was sympathetic. "You don't want to get your hopes up. I understand. But I don't think that will be a problem." He smiled. "Spike is doing a lot better. His breathing is almost back to normal, and you've probably noticed that he's gained a lot more color in the past few days. If he really was responding to outside stimuli, which I think is very likely, he's close to waking up. We shouldn't have too much longer to wait."

Greg leaned back in his seat. He was still trembling a bit, almost an hour later after he had called the doctors. "And will everything be okay once he does? Nothing's going to go wrong?"

"Well, I can't promise anything, but it all looks good at this point. His ribs are healing nicely, his leg is-" They both glanced at the limb in question. With all the rods and glinting metal, it looked like something from a horror movie. "Well, his leg is better than it was. And the latest CAT scans shows that his brain is back down to its normal size, so I'd say everything is going to be fine."

Greg smiled, but he still looked troubled. "What about, ah…" He gestured to his head. Dr. Cooper frowned.

"Well, like I just said, the swelling's pretty much- no?" Greg was shaking his head. "I'm afraid I don't quite know what you're talking about, Greg."

"His, umm… is he going…" He didn't seem to know quite what to say, and gestured to his head again. The doctor stared for a moment, puzzled, and then comprehension dawned on him.

"Oh- Oh!" He started to laugh. "No, he's not going to have massive retrograde amnesia; he'll remember who you are." Greg sagged a little. "That stuff happens much more often in the movies, you know. Usually bad ones. It gives it the whole… 'oh no, our hero won't remember his heroic past, and won't even recognize the face of his one true love'- the audiences just soak it up." He grinned, but faltered when he saw Greg's expression. "Not that I'm saying you're his one true love- or- well, of course I don't have a problem with it if that _is_ your thing- I just want-" He winced. "You know what, I'm just going to shut up now."

Greg let him suffer for a few more seconds, and then laughed. "It's not our thing. Don't worry. I'm just glad about the amnesia."

Dr. Cooper nodded, but his expression got more serious. "The only thing he might not have a clear picture of is the period leading up to his loss of consciousness. You'll have to be gentle with that- don't force it on him all at once. It's bound to be a traumatic memory, and god knows he's had enough trauma to last a lifetime. I can't even imagine what he must have gone through."

"You have no idea." Greg agreed.

* * *

><p>The next day, Spike twitched again, and Greg spilled coffee all over himself. It didn't come to anything, though, and in a way, Greg was almost glad, because he did not want to face Spike for the first time in eleven days trying to bite back yelps of pain as coffee sadistically burned little brown holes in his thighs. But Spike didn't wake up, so he was able to go clean himself up before returning to the bedside.<p>

Raf came in that afternoon, and was absolutely ecstatic to learn that Spike had shown some signs of improvement. He shook Greg's hand enthusiastically, and leapt up to hug a bewildered Dr. Cooper as the latter walked through the door to run a few checks. The doctor made sure to keep the bed between them the rest of time he was in the room.

Raf stayed a couple more hours, staring intently at Spike the entire time. The tech didn't move again, but when Raf stood up to go, his good mood had not diminished in the slightest, and Greg smiled fondly at him as he skipped down the hall. He had no doubt he would be back tomorrow.

* * *

><p>He was, but so was someone a little bit more unexpected. Raf had just left when there was a tentative knock on the door, and Greg looked over to see Laurel peeking her head into the room. He stood up immediately.<p>

"Laurel!" He exclaimed softly, with a wide smile. "Come on in, sweetheart!" She did, and bounded straight to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. He crouched down so he could hug her back, and then looked up. "Where's your mom?" He asked.

"She's getting me hot chocolate." She mumbled, her voice still muffled in his shoulder. "She said she'd be back in a minute. Is that Spike?"

"Yeah, it is. You want to see him a little closer?" When she nodded, Greg lifted her up to set her gently on the side of the bed. "Okay, sweetheart, make sure you don't touch his ribs or his leg. They're still not all healed, and we don't want to hurt him any more, right?"

"Right." She whispered. "Why is he asleep?"

"Well, he's been asleep for a long time, so his body can get all better and his brain doesn't have to worry about it. We're waiting for him to wake up now, but we don't know exactly when that will be."

"Oh. Where's all of his hair?" Greg had to hide a smile.

"The doctors had to work on his head a little bit- see that there? - And they couldn't see through all his hair, so they had to cut it off. But it will grow back, don't worry."

"Good. He looks like a bumpy egg now."

Greg blinked. "Because he doesn't have hair?"

Laurel nodded, and then looked over at him. "I know you don't have hair either, but it's okay; you don't look like a bumpy egg. You just look like a normal egg."

Greg didn't know whether to feel flattered or insulted. Laurel continued on blithely. "You're going to have a lot of eggs in your team. Spike, and you, and the tall grumpy one who was in the waiting room with us…" She drifted off into thought. "Well, I guess three eggs is better than four." Greg made a firm decision not to tell her about Wordy.

Laurel had moved on, however. "Is Spike going to be okay?" She was still talking in a whisper.

"We think so. He's going to hurt a little bit for a while, but once he wakes up, the worst part is over."

"Can he hear us? Does he know we're here?"

"I don't know, sweetheart. I'll tell you something, though; he was having a nightmare last night, and he calmed down some when I touched his arm. So maybe he knows."

"I bet he does." Said Laurel. "I bet he felt it when you touched him. Can _I _touch him?"

Greg looked at her. "Sure, Laurel. Just remember to be careful." She nodded, and then settled in beside him and took one of his hands.

"His fingers are really long." She said as she played with them gently.

"It helps him with his job. He-"

He was cut off as Mrs. Bennett walked into the room, carrying a cup of hot chocolate for Laurel. Greg got out of his seat again, and she nodded to him as she handed the cup over. Laurel took it without letting go of Spike's hand, and began happily slurping away.

"Mrs. Bennett- nice to see you."

"You as well. How's Spike doing?" She glanced over at the bed.

"He's better. Right now, we're just waiting for him to wake up; most of the physical damage is under control. How's Laurel been?"

"I had pneumonia!" Greg turned around to see the girl in question beaming proudly at him.

"You- you had…"

"Pneumonia!" She chirped. "It was awesome."

Greg looked toward her mother. She nodded.

"It's true. She's been over the moon about it- apparently the other kids at school are going to be jealous. She says-"

"It's going to give me street cred."

Greg stared. He opened his mouth, and then closed it. "You're nine." He finally managed. "Why would you need street cred? How would you even know what street cred is?"

"You're never too young for street cred, Mr. Parker." She said wisely. "_Spike_ would know that. Wouldn't you, Spike?"

He didn't make any move to answer, but the girl seemed unperturbed. As she continued chattering into thin air and drinking her hot chocolate, the adults turned back to each other.

"Pneumonia?" Greg asked weakly.

"Not a very bad case. It's why we haven't been to visit already, actually. We didn't want to risk giving Spike anything."

Greg nodded. "That's probably a good idea. So, about Laurel…"

The two of them kept talking, with the occasional input from Laurel, for almost an hour. When it was time for them to go, Greg stood up and walked them to the door. Laurel hugged him again on her way out, and Greg ruffled her hair in return.

Once they had left, and Greg had lowered himself back into his chair, he smiled. Spike sure did know how to make some pretty good friends.

* * *

><p>That afternoon, Greg had gotten as comfortable as was possible in his chair, and was flipping through the newspaper to pass the time. He had taken to reading some articles aloud, because there was no one there to mock him, and he had the irrational thought that maybe Spike would appreciate hearing the news, even if he couldn't actually hear it.<p>

He had just finished one such piece when he put down the paper to rub at his eyes and attempt to get the crick out of his back. He twisted around one way, and then the other, and was just about to go back to reading when Spike twitched. Greg stilled immediately, completely focused on the form in front of him. Nothing had happened the last time Spike moved, and after a tense moment, it became apparent that it wasn't going to this time either. Greg sank back into his chair with a resigned sigh.

And then Spike twitched again, and his eyelids fluttered.

Greg was on his feet in an instant. His hands were shaking as he rested his weight on the bed, and his gaze stayed glued to Spike's face.

And as he watched, the tech's eyes slowly forced their way open. They were dull and unfocused, but they were open, and Greg couldn't breathe.

"Spike?" He pushed out. His voice quavered.

Spike muddily turned his gaze in his direction, but Greg could tell he wasn't seeing anything.

"Laurel…" The younger man moaned, almost inaudibly.

Greg swallowed heavily. "It's okay, Spike. She's okay, we found her, it's okay." He reached out and touched Spike's arm.

Spike blinked incredibly slowly. "Boss?" If possible, his voice was even quieter than it had been before.

"Yeah, Spike, it's me. I'm here, okay? I'm not going anywhere."

Spike's eyes stayed open for another few seconds before his face relaxed as he sank back into unconsciousness.

Greg could barely stand.

* * *

><p>Spike woke up again the next day, but only lasted a few seconds before going back under. Dr. Cooper was bright and cheery on his rounds, and kept telling Greg how great this was, and how Spike was making fantastic progress, and Greg smiled and nodded, but his attention never wavered from the bed. The doctor understood, and was perfectly happy to leave him in peace once he had finished the daily checkups.<p>

The day after that, and two weeks after Spike was admitted, Greg was sleeping in his chair, slumped forward so that his head was resting on his arms, which in turn were lying on the bed in front of him. It was almost one in the morning, and the whole hospital seemed dormant, with no one moving in the hallways and even the machines seeming to whirr more quietly.

Which is why it took Greg a second to figure out what woke him up. He blinked blearily, looking at the door and expecting a nurse. When none appeared, he mentally shrugged and was about to go back to sleep when a weak voice floated toward him.

"Boss?"

Greg jumped, and then jerked around.

Spike had his eyes open again, and this time, his gaze wasn't the muted incomprehension it had been before. He was staring at Greg.

"Spike?" Greg almost fell out of his chair in his effort to turn toward him.

Spike continued to stare. "Where am I?" His voice came out as a croak, and he coughed a little on his words.

Greg forced himself to take a deep breath and calm down before he passed out from lack of oxygen. "You're in a hospital, buddy." He finally got out. "You're- are you- what-" He took another deep breath. "How are you feeling?"

Spike didn't seem to hear him. "Why'm I in a hospital?" He really did sound terrible.

"You ran into a bit of trouble a little while ago, and you got hurt pretty bad." Greg was trying to keep it simple, and he could feel himself slowly getting calmer.

"Okay." Spike said sluggishly. "Why're you…?" He trailed off, but Greg understood.

"I'm just here for you, buddy." Greg shifted closer to the bed. He couldn't help it. "Are you feeling all right?"

"I dunno…" He was fading fast. "'m tired."

"That's okay, Spike. Just go back to sleep, and we can talk later. And Spike?" Spike blinked. "I'm really glad to see you."

"Y'too, boss. I…" He couldn't finish before he was out again. Greg barely noticed, caught up in the strange euphoria that is both hope and relief. Eventually, though, he pulled himself together enough to fumble for his phone and send off a couple quick texts. Even if it was one in the morning, there were people who would want to know.

* * *

><p>Spike wakes up! Yeeaahhh! This chapter's a little short, but I figured better a short chapter up now than a long chapter up a week from now. As always, please let me know what I could be doing to improve, and thank you so much for all your feedback so far!<p>

Review review!


	32. Chapter 32

So this one is up late... wince. I've actually got a pretty excuse, though, since I was in the hospital. Yay! I'm fine now, but it was beyond boring, and they wouldn't let me near my computer. I think they finally let me go because of all the begging I was doing to get it back. So yeah. Your reviews made my week, though, once I could finally check them. So please, continue to leave feedback :) Anyways, here's the chapter. Enjoy!

_Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?_

-Henry David Thoreau

* * *

><p>The next morning saw two people sitting in Spike's room, holding vigil. Raf, once he had gotten Greg's text the night before, had sped over as fast as he could to the hospital, and had resolutely pulled up another chair and rooted himself to the spot. Dean had shown up a couple hours later, saying that he would have been there earlier, but he had missed the text while he was sleeping. When morning came and Spike hadn't woken again, Greg forced Dean out of the room to go to school, and turned to Raf to say he should probably be heading to work, too, but Raf had merely picked up his phone and called Holleran to say he wasn't going to be in. He then settled further into his chair, staring at Spike. Although he didn't say it, Greg was grateful for the company, and was more than happy to just sit as they waited for Spike to wake up.<p>

"He's looking a lot better, isn't he?" Raf asked quietly, about an hour after Dean's departure.

Greg nodded. "Yeah, he is. Dr. Cooper said he's doing really well, and his lungs have improved a whole lot. The broken bones are healing as fast as we can expect, so…" He leaned back in his seat. "Yeah. He's getting better."

"I'm glad. He needs a break; He hasn't had one in a long time."

"I know. God, after what he's been through in the past few months…" Greg reached up and rubbed his eyes. "I'm surprised he hasn't… well, I don't know. But he sure as hell doesn't deserve this. I mean, of all the people in the world, Spike doesn't deserve this."

"You're right." Said Raf simply. "But my dad always said that sometimes life brings a person adversity, just so that other people can come in and bring comfort and hope. So maybe when Spike wakes up, he'll realize that we're here, and we're here to stay." He looked at Greg. "I've always felt like he's lived his life behind a kind of one-way mirror, you know? He sees exactly what other people mean to him, but not what he means to other people. He's different that way- I've never quite been able to figure it out."

"That's… that's a good way of putting it, Raf. The mirror thing. And I don't think anyone's been able to figure it out. Figure him out." Greg sighed. "Sometimes I just want to pick him up and shake him until he gets it. But I don't suppose that will work."

Raf laughed. "I'm personally in favor of smacking him. I've tried it a few times, too, but no progress so far. I'll keep you updated."

"Okay, okay, just wait until he's out of the hospital before you inflict major brain damage." Greg was smiling, and Raf mock-saluted him.

They settled into an easy silence, and both of them turned their attentions to Spike. The tech hadn't moved at all, but there was time. Greg reflected how nice it was to have someone to talk to, and how Raf was particularly eloquent. It surprised him, somehow, and he mentally winced when he realized why. He barely knew their new rookie.

"Raf?" He asked quietly.

"Yeah, boss?"

"I just want to say I'm sorry." At Raf's quizzical look, he elaborated. "Talking like this, you know, just sitting down and talking- we haven't done this. We should have, and I'm sorry."

"Nah, that's just as much my fault as it is yours. I wouldn't worry about it too much; it's not a big deal."

Greg shook his head. "It is a big deal. It's my job to help you, and to be there for you, and I can't do that without knowing you. In more than the sense of the job. It's just that I should have done this a long time ago, and there's really no excuse for why I didn't, so I'm sorry. You shouldn't have had to learn all the ins and outs of the job and the team dynamics without any help."

"I didn't." Raf smiled. "Spike's been there for me. And plus, it's not your job." He talked right over Greg's attempt to protest. "I've been on the force a long time, and I did a stint with team four for a few weeks before joining you. No one else sat down and talked with me. They didn't even feel the need, and they shouldn't have to. It's not their job."

"You don't-"

"But the fact that you're thinking of it, and even more so, apologizing to me- you really do go above and beyond, you know that? There's a reason the team idolizes you."

"Raf," Greg said gently. "The team doesn't idolize me-"

"Yes, they do." Raf's expression was completely serious. "We do. And there's a reason for it. You're the best boss I've ever had, and the best sergeant out there, but you don't just care for us as part of a team. You care for us as part of a family. That's special, and you don't know how rare it is. No, stop, I'm not joking- I may be the new one, but I like to think that gives me a fresh perspective. And that's what I see. And what I feel."

Greg just looked at him for a long time. Then he exhaled slowly. "Thank you, Raf." He said quietly. "That means a lot."

"You don't need to thank me; I just call it like I see it. You mean a lot to us."

"Well, you guys mean a lot to me, too." Greg didn't know what else to say.

Raf didn't have any such problem. "But especially Spike, right?"

"What?"

"Spike. He means the most to you, I think. Not as a member of the team- that would be unprofessional, and you're anything but unprofessional- but as family."

Greg didn't answer, and Raf went on understandingly. "That's cool, boss. We get it. Sam means the most to Jules, and vice versa, and none of us resent them for it. It's not something you choose. It's family. There's a reason it was you who rode in the ambulance with him, and there's a reason you're the one who's stayed here all this time, and we respect that."

"Raf…"

"In case you don't know, you mean just as much to him as he means to you. He loves you more than anything in the world. I'm just going to put it out there." There was a second in which neither of them said anything, and then Raf pushed himself out of his chair abruptly. "Do you want some food? I'm going to go find something." Greg was silent, and Raf nodded. "Okay. I'll grab you something."

Before Greg got his senses together, he was already out of the room.

* * *

><p>When he got back, Greg didn't say anything, and if the older man was still a little bit pale, Raf didn't mention it either. Instead, he just handed over a plate of unappetizing goo, and unenthusiastically started picking at his own.<p>

"This stuff is absolutely disgusting." He grumbled, deliberately ignoring their previous line of conversation. "You'd think they want to help people get out of the hospital, not put them there."

Greg got up out of his seat and reached into the closet behind him. Raf watched uncertainly until an apple came flying at his head. He caught it automatically, and Greg sat down and held up another one. "Dean brought them." He explained. "He said pretty much the same thing as you. I think they're trying to-"

A slight movement on the bed cut him off, and the apples were immediately forgotten as the pair of them surged to their feet. Spike's eyes were half open, and he was blearily looking toward them. Raf was shaking as he leaned in toward the head of the bed. "Hey, Spike." He said quietly, unevenly.

"Raf?" Spike mumbled.

"Yeah, it's me. Look, Sarge is here too." He was still trembling.

"Boss..." Spike's eyelids were slowly prying themselves further apart.

"Hey, buddy." Greg said softly.

"Hi… where am I?"

"You're in the hospital, Spike."

"Oh." He coughed weakly. "Did you tell me that already?"

"Yeah, you woke up for a bit last night, and we talked. Do you remember?"

"I think so…" He coughed again. It was a wet, harsh sound, and Spike looked like he could barely get it out. Raf was gripping the bed so tightly that the sheets were beginning to slide in his direction, and Greg put a comforting hand on his back. The younger man let go immediately and shuffled a little closer to Spike.

"Are you feeling okay, Spike?" Raf asked.

"My leg hurts…" He blinked slowly. "Why does my leg hurt?"

Raf and Greg exchanged glances. It was Greg who answered.

"You got into some trouble and banged it up a little bit." Raf looked at him again, and he couldn't suppress a cringe. That was the understatement of the century. He forced himself to go on. "But don't worry, buddy; it's going to be all right. It'll get better."

"Okay." Spike said trustingly. He let out another labored cough, and started to relax. His eyes had just fallen shut when suddenly, they flew open and he shot back into awareness with a jerk that racked his whole body. Greg thought, for one horrifying moment, that he was having another seizure, and he could tell Raf was thinking the same thing by the way he tensed up beside him. But no, it wasn't a seizure, and before he knew it, Spike was attempting to push himself out of the bed.

"Laurel…" He was panting frantically. "He's got Laurel, I need to go-" He gasped in pain as his movements compressed his ribs, but he didn't stop struggling, and it took Greg a second to react before he was pushing past a stock-still Raf.

"Raf, get a doctor. Now!" He snapped when Raf didn't move. "Spike, come on." He said urgently as he reached down and grasped the tech's shoulders. He easily ignored the weak attempts to jerk away. "Spike, stop, it's okay, we've got her." He tried applying gentle pressure to force him down, but Spike was still thrashing, and so he leaned over and used some of his weight to pin the tech to the bed, trying to avoid his injuries. "We've got her, Spike, she's fine, don't worry." Spike was still struggling, but he was getting weaker and weaker, and Greg slowly loosened his hold. "That's it, Spike, that's right. Laurel's okay, you don't have to worry." Spike gradually gave up his fight, succumbing to exhaustion and collapsing limply on the bed, twitching sporadically. "Good, Spike, good." Greg moved a hand up to cup Spike's cheek. "It's all okay."

Spike gazed up at him, pale as a sheet from his exertions. "Promise?" His eyes were swimming in and out of focus. "Laurel's… she's…"

"Yeah, she's fine. I promise, Spike. I promise."

Spike didn't look away from Greg's face, but his features slowly relaxed as his eyes drooped, and in seconds, he was asleep again. Greg stayed where he was for a moment, and then slowly straightened up before turning to Raf, who had just run back into the room, followed closely by a doctor. "He's out again." He said wearily to the both of them.

Raf nodded as the doctor rushed over to Spike's side. He opened his mouth, but when nothing but a croak emerged, he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, I should have… I should have helped, I guess, I don't know what I was…" He trailed off.

"It's okay, Raf. There was nothing you could have done. And it's over now." Greg lowered himself back into his seat with a heavy sigh. "The good news is, he was awake a lot longer this time. It'll just get better from here."

Raf nodded again. "Yeah. Okay. You're right. Of course." He pulled the chair a little closer to the bed and settled down in it. "It'll be better."

* * *

><p>And it was. Spike woke up again later that afternoon, and the first thing out of his lips was Laurel's name. Greg was able to calm him down before he did any damage to himself, however, and Raf let out a sigh of relief. Greg was still talking.<p>

"Do you want me to have her come over here tomorrow? Then you can see how well she's doing." Spike just stared at his boss with wide eyes. "Spike?" Greg gently prompted. "Do you want to see Laurel?"

"I… Yeah." Spike nodded dazedly.

"Okay, I'll give her a call. Now do you think you can stay awake a few more minutes? I know Raf wants to talk to you." When Spike nodded again, Greg stood up and softly clapped Raf's shoulder. "I'm going to go out in the hall and give you guys some privacy." He said quietly. "Shout if you need any help, okay?"

"Thanks." Raf said gratefully as Greg made his way to the door, and carefully took a seat on the bed next to Spike. Greg paused at the door to look back at the scene before stepping out into the corridor. He pulled out his phone as he moved a little further from the room and found the number he was looking for.

"Hello? Mrs. Bennett? It's Greg. How are you?" He shifted back to lean against the wall. "I'm glad to hear it. And Laurel? Oh- that's great. Cashing in on that street cred, I guess." He smiled. "Listen, I'm calling because Spike just woke up, and- yeah, we're really happy about it too. Mm-hm. Well, he's been asking about Laurel, and I thought maybe the two of you would like to come over tomorrow after Laurel's done with school for a little visit. Only if it works for you, of course. It does? That's great, thank you so much. Okay, I'll see you tomorrow. Thanks again, Mrs. Bennett." He pulled the phone away from his ear and turned back to the door. He stopped before the threshold, though, and just took in the sight before him.

Raf had scooted his chair right up to the side of the bed, and was leaning both his elbows on the sheets as he talked to Spike softly. Spike, for his part, was watching him through hooded eyes, and Greg could see he wasn't really understanding anything Raf said. It was apparent Raf knew it too, but the other man just kept murmuring, and Spike kept getting calmer and calmer as he let the words wash over him.

It was actually a touching scene, and one Greg was loathe to interrupt. He slowly backed away and found a bench in the hallway to sit on. He could wait.

* * *

><p>By the time Laurel got there the next day, Spike had woken up twice more, and was more alert each time. Greg had even had a legitimate, albeit short, conversation with him, and for the first time in weeks, he felt happy.<p>

So when Laurel came bounding into the room ahead of her mother, Greg bent down and scooped her up, carrying her bridal style as she laughed delightedly and kicked around. He grinned. "Hey, kiddo."

"Mr. Parker, put me down! It tickles!" He spun her around, and she giggled madly again and beat at his chest. He bounced her lightly one more time, laughing with her, before setting her down on her feet.

"You can call me Greg if you want, Laurel." He said, ruffling her hair. "Mr. Parker always reminds me of my dad."

"Okay, Greg!" She said happily, and jumped up a little bit in an effort to see over the edge of the bed. "Is Spike awake? Is he doing better now? Is everything okay? When-"

"Laurel, enough with all the questions; you're making everyone dizzy." Mrs. Bennett had walked into the room and was making her way towards the bed. She was carrying two large baskets, one in each hand, and Greg automatically went to go help her. She handed over the bigger of the two and smiled, setting the other one on the chair. Greg raised his eyebrows at the weight.

"We thought we'd bring something to cheer up the room, and to make Spike feel more at home."

"You didn't have to-"

She waved her hand dismissively. "Nonsense. Here, that one's for him; just take the cloth off the top-" She lifted the fabric from the basket in Greg's hands, and motioned for him to put it on the bedside table. "It's just a little something we put together."

Greg gazed down at the overflowing assortment of flowers, chocolate, books, and card games, and swallowed, stunned. There must have fifty or sixty things packed into the basket. "This is… this is… it's..." He floundered.

Laurel ignored him and hopped over. "We picked it all out!" She said excitedly. "It was really fun- here, look, Greg, that's my part! Mom let me have a whole corner all to myself." She beamed proudly at him, and Greg looked down at the corner in question. It was by far the most colorful section, filled with comic books, gummy worms, mismatched flowers, and a paper heart that was obviously homemade. He didn't look away until Laurel tugged on his hand to turn him around. "Isn't it great?"

"Yeah, Laurel. It's great." He said softly. "It's really great." He looked up. "Mrs. Bennett…"

"Oh, call me Clara. And we really did have fun with all of this."

Laurel, who was still holding on to his hand, pulled him closer to the chair, and the second basket, impatiently. "This one's for you." She said. "It doesn't have as much in it, but don't worry; you can take Spike's stuff when he's sleeping. Come on, come on!" She tugged again when he didn't move as quickly as she would have liked. Greg stumbled behind her.

"No, Laurel, I can't take this-"

"Yes you can." She said stubbornly. "We made it just for you, so you have to. Right, Mom?"

"Right, baby." She smiled up at Greg. "You're outnumbered here, I'm afraid. Your only option is surrender."

Greg was silent for a second. "Well…" He eventually said quietly. "Thank you. I, uh…" He trailed off. Eventually, he shook his head some as if to clear it, and crouched down so he was at eye level with Laurel. "Do you want to see if we can wake Spike up for a little while? Then maybe you can talk to him." His voice still sounded rough, but Laurel didn't notice.

"Yeah! I _really_ want to! But…" She hesitated uncertainly. "Should we be waking him up? Will that make him more sick?"

Greg smiled at her. "I checked with the doctor this morning, and he said it would be okay. So how about it?" At Laurel's enthused response, he stood up. "All right, sweetheart. Now I want you to be quiet for a minute while I wake him up. We don't want to overwhelm him, right?" Laurel nodded gravely. "Okay, thanks, Laurel."

He turned around and walked to the bed, setting himself down on it so he was sitting close to Spike's side. He leaned over slightly so he was positioned above the tech, and then spoke softly. "Spike?" When there was no response, he reached and very gently grasped the other man's shoulder. "Spike, buddy, time to get up now." When he saw a faint flutter in the eyelids, he smiled. "That's it. Just like that. Come on, buddy."

Spike blearily opened his eyes, blinking against the light in the room. "Boss?"

"Yeah, it's me. How are you feeling?" Greg kept a hand on his shoulder.

Spike paused. "I don't… Better, I guess. What's wrong?" His gaze was still foggy, and his voice was thick. He coughed, and Greg internally cringed at the harsh sound.

"Nothing's wrong, Spike. In fact, there's someone here who wants to see you. Are you feeling up to it? If you're not, just let me know, and you can go back to sleep."

"No, I… Who wants to see me?"

Greg turned around to motion Laurel over. "She's been really worried about you." When Laurel got close to the bed, he picked her up and set her gently down beside him.

Spike's reaction was immediate. He tried to shoot up, but Greg had anticipated the movement, and kept him firmly pressed to the bed. Spike struggled for a split second, and then went limp. "Laurel?" He asked weakly.

"Hi, Spike." She was quiet, and Spike just stared at her.

"Are you…" He coughed again. "How… The boat… Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay." She smiled slightly, and Spike visibly relaxed at the gesture.

"You're sure?"

Laurel nodded, becoming a little more animated again. "How are _you_ feeling? I was really worried, and you were sleeping a long time, so I didn't know what was going on."

Now it was Spike's turn to smile. "I feel better now that you're here." Another cough. "I like you." Greg turned his head to hide a smile. Morphine was a powerful drug. "I like you too, boss." He looked back at Spike, amused.

"Thanks, buddy. You're pretty cool as well."

Spike nodded dreamily. "I know. I wear the cool pants. Pants. They're cool. I think 'm cool…" His speech slowly deteriorated into incomprehensible gargling, and Laurel leaned in. She nodded wisely.

"You're right, Spike." Another round of gargling. "Yeah, pretty much." Gargle. "I _know_, right? I totally get it. Mm-hm." Gargle. "Nah, I think it's more like Clue. But Monopoly is pretty close too, I guess." They continued their back and forth, totally ignoring the outside world.

Greg just watched the scene, bewildered, and after a little while, gave up in his attempts to understand. He supposed if anyone could have a conversation like that, it would be Laurel.

* * *

><p>Spike is doing a little better, as you can see. He'll be fully awake next chapter, I promise. You have no idea how happy reviews make me, so please, please, make me happy :) Again, constructive criticism is much appreciated. You guys are the best!<p>

Review review!


	33. Chapter 33

Hey all! Thanks for all the reviews last chapter- keep 'em coming! We're getting really close to the end here... Enjoy the chapter!

_Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?_

-Henry David Thoreau

* * *

><p>Spike was getting better with every day that passed. He was able to stay awake for longer stretches at a time, and could hold increasing lucid conversations with people, much to the delight of Dr. Cooper. The doctor flitted in and out of the room at regular intervals, smiling jovially and chatting with Greg. It was such a dramatic change from the haggard, exhausted man that had given them the news about the original surgeries that Raf had even brought up the difference with his boss. Greg agreed wholeheartedly.<p>

The rest of the team were also regular visitors, and Spike was energized by their presence, getting more and more enthusiastic as time went on. He had his first serious conversation of his stay with Greg, though, when the rest of team had departed.

"So, boss…"

Greg set down the newspaper he had been reading to look at the tech. "Yeah, Spike? Do you need anything?"

Spike shook his head. "No… Well, actually, yes. I don't know what happened, and no one seems to want to tell me." He took a deep breath. "Why am I in the hospital?"

Greg momentarily closed his eyes, and then exhaled slowly. "Are you sure you want to know, Spike? I'll tell you if you want, but you might not like what you're hearing."

"Boss, I have burns all around my torso, something's wrong with my lungs, I have four broken ribs, parts of my skull are missing, and I have a leg that's being held together by a couple pieces of metal. That's not normal. I can't figure any of it out, and it's driving me crazy. I really do want to know."

"It's not a pretty story…"

"I'm sure." Spike was determined, and Greg folded up the newspaper and set it on the ground next to his chair.

"Okay." He said wearily. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Cabe had left us with the bomb, and Laurel knocked Arbor out. After that, nothing."

"Well, you got Laurel out." Greg said slowly. "You shot the lock off the door using Arbor's gun, and told Laurel to find a phone and get me. You and her got the bomb to the edge of the boat and threw it in the water, and then she ran. After that, we're not quite sure, but we have a fuzzy picture…"

"I want to hear it."

Greg moved a little closer to the bed, resting his weight on his elbows. "We know that Arbor regained consciousness before Cabe got back, and it sounded like he was pretty angry. He… uh… he messed you up a little bit. Well, more than a little bit. That's where the broken ribs came from. And the skull fractures."

Spike nodded grimly, but Greg was feeling sicker and sicker.

"You know what, Spike, I don't think this is a good time. Let's just talk about it later-"

"There's never going to be a good time. And I need to- I need to know what happened. If you don't tell, someone else is going to, and I really want to hear it from you. So please."

Greg just looked at him for a long time. "I don't… well, it's your decision, but…" He faltered.

"Boss, please." Spike's mouth was set in a straight line.

"Jesus. Okay. I, uh… I…" He shook his head. "You were in bad shape when Cabe got back, and he shot Arbor for it. We got there a few minutes after that. He dragged you out onto the deck, and we didn't have a clear shot, so I tried to talk to him, but it didn't- it didn't go so well. You were unconscious and unresponsive, and Cabe wasn't listening to me. He knew he wasn't getting out of it by that point, and he just decided to end it. He lit himself on fire, and he was still holding on to you."

"That's where the burns come from." Spike was keeping his composure, albeit barely.

"Yeah, that's where the burns come from. Well, Sam took the shot, and Cabe let go, but you really couldn't go anywhere but the water. So you fell. Ed got you out, but…" Greg swallowed, and inhaled deeply.

"Boss, come on…"

"This is really hard for me to talk about, Spike. Just- just give me a second, okay?"

Spike nodded silently, and waited for Greg to gather his thoughts. Finally, the older man looked up at him.

"You weren't breathing, and you didn't have a heartbeat, and Raf and I tried CPR but it didn't work and then the paramedics got there and they got your heart started again." He said in one breath. "And then they tried to get you in the ambulance, but you had a seizure, and then they finally made it to the hospital and they had to remove a goddamn piece of your skull to keep your brain from swelling so much that it would kill you. Okay?" He bit out. "You… you almost…" He pressed his eyes shut. "I don't think…" His breath caught in his throat.

"Boss, it's okay." If there was anything Greg was expecting Spike to say, it wasn't that. He opened his eyes again, and Spike was looking at him tiredly, and moved a hand to cover his own.

"What?" Greg asked dumbly.

"It's okay. I'm fine now, so everything's okay, right? It's not an issue anymore." Spike even managed a weak smile, patting his boss' hand slowly. "It was probably worse for you than it was for me- I was asleep through the whole thing. So it's okay. I'm glad you told me about it."

"Spike… I'm sorry…"

"Don't worry about it. Really. I'm just glad you were there. Even if I was unconscious, I'm sure it helped."

"…You're a special person, you know that, Spike?"

Spike smiled. "Thanks, boss." They lapsed into a semi-comfortable silence until Spike spoke up again. "So he lit himself on fire, huh?"

Greg nodded.

"I bet that was a nasty cleanup." Spike grimaced. "Ugh."

"Actually, I think the boat might have burned too. I could be wrong, though-we were kind of focused on something else."

"Ouch. Point taken. So, when's Laurel going to get here again? Or Dean? Or Raf? Or the team? Not that I don't love your company-" He tacked on hastily. "It's just that… Hey… actually, why _are_ you here? Shouldn't you be at work?"

Greg leaned back in his chair. "Nah. I'm taking some time off, you know, just making sure you get back on your feet without any major mishaps."

"But boss…" Spike stared. "You haven't taken off ever. Or at least since I made the team. But that's not the point- you don't take time off."

"I do now." Greg said simply. "Some things are more important than an attendance record down at the barn. I wasn't about to let you wake up here alone, Spike."

"I- I'm- you don't-" Spike didn't seem to know what to say. "Wow." He finally settled on. "That's… that's really nice of you, boss. Thank you."

Greg smiled and leaned over to pat Spike's shoulder. "I would say anytime, but I'm really really hoping I won't have another opportunity. Got it?"

"Yeah." Spike looked dazed. "Got it. Definitely. Don't get myself beat up by another psychopath with a grudge. I can do that."

"Great, Spike. Now you're looking tired, so why don't you try to get some more sleep? Laurel's coming tomorrow morning, so you're going to need your rest. Go on; I'll be right here."

Spike's eyelids were in fact beginning to droop, so Greg helped him settle his pillow behind his head, and the younger man was out in five minutes.

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><p>Laurel came in the next morning with her mother, coming toward Greg with her arms open. After he had swung her around a few times, he lifted her up and set her on the bed next to Spike, with whom she slowly struck up a conversation. She seemed more subdued than normal, and Greg looked to Clara in consternation. The woman leaned in to speak with him.<p>

"She's been quiet for a few days. I think she might be coming down with something, but she says she's feeling fine… we'll see, I guess. I'm sure she's okay."  
>Greg nodded, although not entirely convinced, and they moved on to another subject. A few minutes into their stay, though, Clara got a phone call and moved to the corner of the room to take it. Greg could hear her side of the conversation.<p>

"Terry… Yeah, I'm fine… Listen, I'm with Laurel, can we make this quick? You what? Terry, really, again? We just got here- Laurel's going to be so upset… you know what? Fine. I'll be there in half an hour." She snapped her phone shut angrily, and whirled around. Laurel hadn't heard any of it, still chatting with Spike, and so Greg got up quietly to intercept the older woman.

"Clara…" He said gently. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no, it's nothing-" She exhaled angrily. "It's my sister. She 'forgot' money for a cab again, and needs me to pick her up, and-" She reached up to rub her eyes. "Laurel's going to be so upset. She's been looking forward to seeing you guys for days."

As she started to make her way past Greg to get her bag, he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Clara? Listen, why don't I take her home? That way she can stay here for a while, you can go pick up your sister, and I can drop her off when you're done."

"Thanks, but you don't have to-"

"Hey, stop it. I want to. I like Laurel just as much as Spike does, and I'd love to spend a little more time with her. Spike needs someone to talk to other than me, and I need some time away from the hospital, so it really works out better for everyone this way. Come on, what do you say?"

She studied him for a minute. "Are you sure? I don't want to intrude…"

"You're not intruding. Here, write down your address for me, and just give me a call when you want me to bring her over. I'll be careful with her, I promise." He smiled.

"No, I'm not worried- okay, you were joking. I knew that." She smiled too. "If you're certain, it would be a big help. Thank you so much." She leaned down to jot their address down, and when she stood up, grasped his hand as she handed the sheet of paper over. "Really. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Don't even worry about it; we'll have fun. Should I…" He motioned to Laurel.

"No, hold on- Laurel, baby?" Laurel paused to look over, and Clara continued. "I've got to go pick up Aunt Terry, so Greg is going to take you home when you're done talking to Spike. Is that okay?"

"Yeah. Spike, did you hear that? I get to go home with Greg!"

"I heard, Laurel." Spike said, amused. Greg just smiled indulgently at them both, and saw Clara out the door.

An hour and a half later, Greg got the okay to bring Laurel home, although Clara assured him that there was no rush and to just come whenever it worked for him. By that point, though, Spike was nodding off in between every sentence, and so Greg butted in.

"Hey Laurel." He said softly. "Time to go now. Can you say bye to Spike?"

"Bye, Spike." She recited reluctantly. "I'll be back to visit soon though. We can talk more then, right?"

Spike nodded, but his eyes were already falling shut, and Greg pulled Laurel gently off the bed. "I'll be back soon, Spike. Don't wait up."

To his credit, Spike managed a half-smile before he was completely unconscious again. Greg looked down at him fondly before turning back to Laurel. "Let's go, sweetheart. Got your coat?"

She held up the jacket he had given her that night, weeks before. "Can you help me? It's big."

Greg reached down to help her slide her arms through the sleeves and pull the zipper up. "It is big, Laurel. I didn't know you'd still be wearing it."

"It's my favorite." She said matter-of-factly. "It's really comfy and warm and it reminds me of you and Spike." She burrowed a little farther into it as they made their way down the stairs.

"That's sweet of you, kiddo. Now here, my car's just through those doors. It's the big black one over there- okay, you found it. Good, now hop in the backseat. Come on, up you go." He said as he hoisted her into the car. He pulled out his keys as he jogged around to the driver's seat, jumping in and jacking up the heat. "You comfortable back there?" Laurel nodded, but remained burrowed in the coat. Greg smiled. "It'll warm up soon enough." He checked the address one more time before pulling out into the street.

They were silent for almost ten minutes. That in and of itself was odd, given Laurel's propensity for chatter, but Greg wrote it off as her being tired and out of energy. "Hey Laurel?" You feeling okay?" Laurel nodded, but didn't elaborate. Greg contemplated pushing, but in the end, decided not to. He had to give her some space.

After several more minutes of silence, Laurel piped up. "Greg?"

Greg looked back at her. "Yeah, kiddo?" Laurel was shivering, and he frowned and pumped the heat up even more.

"I have nightmares." Laurel stated quietly.

It took him a full ten seconds to react, and then he closed his eyes briefly. "Oh, sweetheart…" He looked back at her one more time before pulling the truck over to the side of the road. Then he got out of his seat and opened the back door, climbing carefully inside to settle next to her. "Why didn't you say anything?"

She sniffled. "I didn't want anybody to worry, or think I was being a baby by complaining. I just wanted to be like a grown-up…" Her voice quavered, and tears started coming to her eyes.

Greg put an arm around her and pulled her close up against his side. "Laurel, even grown-ups have nightmares. It's okay to be scared sometimes; no one is going to think you're a baby." He tilted her chin so she was looking up at him. "You know I don't think you're a baby, right?" She nodded miserably, but started to cry in earnest the second he let go again.

"Oh, Laurel." He said softly. "Come here." He unbuckled her seatbelt and held his arms open, and she clambered up into his lap immediately, wrapping her arms around his chest and burying her face in the hollow between his neck and his shoulder. She was shaking, and Greg shifted her more comfortably against him and brought a hand up to her head, holding her to him gently. He could feel his shirt starting to get wet from Laurel's tears, and he rocked her slightly back and forth as he murmured in her ear.

"It's alright, sweetheart, everything will be fine. Just let it all out. It's okay to cry, and you've been so brave. Everyone cries, Laurel, it's alright." She stayed buried in his chest, and he started stroking a hand through her hair, just trying to offer as much comfort as he could. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked quietly. "Sometimes it helps." When she didn't respond, he pressed his lips against her head. "Okay. Do you want to hear something?"

Laurel didn't react, and he took that as an affirmative. "A couple of months ago," He began, "Spike was staying at my house for a little bit. Now, we're both grown-ups, right?" He felt Laurel nod into his shoulder, quieting imperceptibly. "Well, one night, I had a nightmare. I got out of bed to make myself a cup of tea, because that sometimes helps me go back to bed. But guess who I saw?" Laurel didn't answer, but he felt her breath even out a little bit. "I saw Spike. He had had a nightmare too, and we were both out of bed at the same time, because we both had nightmares. Can you believe that?" He paused for a second, looking down at the top of her head. "And you know what? We both talked a little bit about what we were so afraid of, and it made us feel better. Because once you've said it out loud, you can start to try to beat it. So it's okay to talk about it, if you want to."

Laurel nodded into his shoulder, but didn't say anything, and Greg just pulled her a little closer, resting his chin on her head. They stayed that way for a long time before she started talking.

As she told him about her dreams, Greg didn't let go of her, and when she finally ran out of things to say, allowed her to burrow back into his shoulder and make the next move. Finally, she looked up at him.

"You're a really good listener." She sniffled. "Thanks for not calling me a baby."

"You're not a baby, Laurel. Anybody can see that. And I'm glad telling me helped some." He bent down to catch her eye. "Now, if you have another nightmare tonight, I want you to call me right away. Then we can talk about it again, and it won't scare you so much later. Can you do that?"

Laurel nodded, rubbing her eyes. "What if you're asleep?"

"It's okay, you can wake me up. I don't mind, and I'd feel better knowing about your dream. So make sure you call me, okay?"

"Okay." Laurel had stopped sniffling, and turned around so her back was to his chest. As she settled in against him, she took his hand. "Are you married?"

Greg blinked, confused by the total non-sequitor. "No…" He said slowly as she played with his hand. "Why, Laurel?"

"Can we get married?" She asked innocently. Greg inhaled some of her hair and narrowly avoided choking.

"I- I'm sorry, what?"

"Can we get married? I like you, and you like me, so can we get married? It makes sense."

Greg bit down on his lip to keep himself from laughing. "I'm sorry, Laurel, but I think I'm a bit too old for you."

"Oh." She said sadly. Then she brightened up. "Can I marry Spike?"

Greg bit his lip harder and squeezed her hand. "I think Spike may be a little too old for you as well. Don't worry, though; you'll find someone your age in a few years, and you'll be very happy with him. Or her. Right?"

Laurel sighed. "I guess…" She turned around to face him. "I feel better now."

"That's good, sweetheart. Do you want to head home?" Laurel nodded, and he moved her off his lap. "All right, let's go. Do you want to listen to some music?"

The rest of the ride, Laurel's incessant chitchat returned full force, and Greg spent most of the time smiling.

* * *

><p>When he got back to the hospital, Raf was there, just having gotten off shift. Spike had just woken up, and as Raf took a seat next to him, Greg left the room so the two of them could have some privacy. When Dean arrived an hour later, Greg was still sitting outside the door, and he waved his son past him when he got close.<p>

"Go on in, Dean." He said. "Raf's in there now, but I'm pretty sure he's finishing up soon, and I know Spike wants to see you." He shifted back in his seat. "If he gets tired, though, don't push him too much, okay?"

Dean smiled. "Yeah, Dad. I'll be considerate." He pulled the door open, but stopped short at the threshold. "Dad." He whispered. "Dad, come look at this." Greg got out of his chair slowly to peer into the room, and when he saw the scene before him, blinked.

Spike was out cold again, with his jaw slightly open and his head lolled back on the pillow. Greg wasn't surprised- the tech had already had a long day, and was probably exhausted. He was surprised, however, when he saw Raf.

The other man was also fast asleep, still in his chair with his head resting in his arms, collapsed near Spike's midriff. He was snoring softly, and the two of them painted a very peaceful picture. But that wasn't all.

Stuck under Spike's arm was a splotch of color, and Raf also had a hand wrapped around the object, whatever it was. Greg and Dean inched forward to get a closer look, and when it came into view, they turned to look at each other with wide eyes.

Greg snapped out of his daze first. "Go get a camera." He mouthed to Dean. The latter took a second to respond, but then he was nodding and running silently out the door, a feral grin spreading over his face. Greg turned back to the pair in front of him and tented his fingers evilly.

* * *

><p>"Boss, come on, please!" Spike whined from his bed. It was three days later, and he, Raf, Dean, and Greg were all together in the room again. The last two had just revealed their piece de resistance, and Raf and Spike were advocating desperately for its destruction. Greg and Dean had refused.<p>

"Sarge, he's right, you don't need that." Raf was attempting to negotiate. "Why don't you just hand it over, and we can all go home happy."

"And in one piece." Spike glowered.

"What's that, Spike? Oh, are you threatening us?" Greg asked calmly. "You didn't seem so dangerous when you were all curled up with…" He held up the picture to the light, as if examining it for the first time. "What would you say that was, Dean?"

"Jeez, I don't know, Dad." Dean was having the time of his life. "I think it came from Laurel's basket- it kind of looks like a teddy bear."

"Oh! You're right! A teddy bear! Now, what do you think two grown men would be doing with a teddy bear, hmm?"

"And not just any teddy bear, Dad."

"You're right, Dean- a rainbow…"

"Sequined…

"Squeeze-me-and-I-sing teddy bear." Greg finished mildly. "Why, people might talk."

"I think you're right, Dad. A lot of people might talk."

"You know what, people might do more than talk, Dean, they might-"

Raf snapped and lunged for the picture, but Greg whipped it out of the way at the last second. "Tsk tsk tsk, Raf. You really don't want to upset me now, do you?"

Raf looked like he might make another attempt, but visibly collected himself and took a deep breath. "Sorry, Sarge. Now will you give me the picture?" It was obviously killing him to stay calm.

"What do you think, Dean? Should we give him the picture?"

"I don't know, Dad. He didn't ask very nicely…"

Raf ground his teeth. "I'm not going to grovel-"

Spike had no such compunctions. "Pleasepleasepleaseplease Pleeeeeeaaaaaase?" Greg hadn't known a human's voice could go that high. He raised his eyebrows.

"Well, he did say please, Dad."

Greg nodded. "You're right. Here you go, Spike." He held out the picture to the tech, who snatched it immediately, sagging in relief. Greg turned back around and walked over to the door with Dean. "Anyway, it's not as if we needed that one. Dean, you want to…?"

Dean grinned again as he reached into his backpack and pulled out a rolled up, full-size poster. Greg took it and handed it to Raf. "Here, Raf, you can have this one too. After all, there are plenty tacked up around headquarters. I think Ed even sized one down so he could put it in his locker." There was a horrified, stunned silence, and then Greg smiled. "Well, I'm headed home to take a shower and clean up. I'll catch you guys later, okay? Let's go, Dean." He and Dean had already made it into the hallway and around the corner before either of the other two could blink, let alone move.

Spike didn't talk to Greg for days.

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><p>Well, that one was fun to write! Remember, reviews keep me motivated, so press the little button, please! Also, don't hesitate to tell me things that I could have done better, not included, included, etc. I always want to improve! Thanks a bunch!<p>

Review review!


	34. Chapter 34

Hey all! It's the end of the line here, and I'm sad and happy at the same time. Sad, because this has been a blast, but also happy, because I can start another story that's going to challenge and excite. That being said. I don't know what I should write about next. So if you have any ideas, just leave them in a review (or PM me, if you don't want to do that). I can't promise I'll use it, by I sure would appreciate the help. Let me know!

_Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?_

-Henry David Thoreau

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><p>The longer Spike stayed in the hospital, the more cheerful and active he seemed to get, and before long, he was bugging and pestering both Greg and Dr. Cooper about getting to leave every time either of them walked into the room. Dr. Cooper took it with good grace, assuring him that it would be soon, and that all they needed to do was remove the rods from his leg and do a few more CAT scans to make sure nothing was still floating around in his brain. Greg, on the other hand, eventually got so frustrated that he threatened to gag the tech if he didn't stop whining. While that stopped Spike for a while, it did nothing to dampen his mood.<p>

And with Spike so upbeat, everyone around him started to smile more as well. Even Ed had been sporting a large grin as he came out from the hospital room, and Greg could hear Jules laughing hysterically from within whenever she and Sam came to visit. Dean had taken to bringing his homework, and Spike would help him breeze through the math and physics sections, and hopelessly flounder when it came to French. Dean mercilessly teased him about it, but Spike would never glower for long.

And Greg went back to work. At first, he had been hesitant, glancing nervously at Spike and talking to Dr. Cooper in a low voice when he thought Spike couldn't hear them. But of course the younger man knew, and practically threw him out of the room, telling him to come visit after shift or something, because he didn't want to see him until he had gone back to work. So Greg had gone.

He still came to visit everyday, of course, and he and Spike carried on their easy conversations. And he had frequent company; it seemed a day didn't go by without at least one additional visitor. Laurel was there twice a week, if not more, as were all the usual suspects- Dean, Raf, the rest of the team- and, much to Greg's surprise, Winnie.

And if Spike was just a little too flustered during those visits, and Winnie blushed a little bit more than usual… well, who was he to say anything? He just made sure to make himself scarce, and pretended Spike wasn't a few shades too red when he took his seat by the bed again.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe he's making me use a wheelchair." Spike grumbled, two weeks later. "Crutches, okay, I get it, but a wheelchair? That's just sadistic."<p>

"You couldn't use crutches if you tried." Greg pointed out reasonably. "Your ribs aren't strong enough yet."

Spike pouted peevishly. "Who needs ribs anyways? Ugh, a wheelchair... this is so humiliating."

As much as Spike whined about it, he really did need the wheelchair, and he knew it. While the rods had been taken out without too much trouble, his leg was still enclosed in a huge padded cast that stretched midway up his thigh. It was disconcerting to look at, and although the tech was taking great care to appear nonchalant about it, Greg didn't miss the slight hitches in his breath and the increasing pallor in his face every time they hit a slight bump. But he didn't bring it up, and indulged Spike in his complaining.

So as the diatribe continued, Greg just rolled his eyes as he kept pushing Spike down the hallway of the hospital. "At least you're leaving, right? No more nurses, no more disgusting food, no more uncomfortable bed… or uncomfortable chair, for that matter." He grimaced. "I think I've ruined my back for the rest of my life."

"Maybe you could get a wheelchair too, and we could be twins." Said Spike sarcastically. "This is _so_ not going to last. You just wait- two weeks and I'll be out of this thing."

"Sorry, bud, doctor said a month. And then two more on crutches. You're not getting out of it, so don't even try." He said when Spike opened his mouth to protest. "We are not taking any chances with this. You're just going to have to stick it out."

"I hate you." It was a weak protest, and both of them knew it, but Greg let Spike have the small victory.

"All right, Mr. Grumpy Pants. Let's get you home, and then you can complain some more once you're all situated. Good?"

"No, not good. And really, Mr. Grumpy Pants? What are you, five? I can't believe that _you_ grounded _me_. I'm obviously the mature one here…"

Spike kept whining like a child all the way to the car.

* * *

><p>A week after Greg got back to work, Raf cornered him in the briefing room. Greg had just finished packing up his things and was preparing to head home, but set everything back down and raised his eyebrows when the younger man strode through the door.<p>

"Hey, Raf. What's going on? Do you need anything?"

Raf gestured to a chair. "Do you mind if we…"

Greg frowned, but took a seat, and Raf followed suit. "Is something the matter?"

"No, not really… well, I don't think so. It's just that I wanted to talk to you about Spike."

"All right." Said Greg quietly. He moved his bag off his lap and onto the ground next to his chair. "What do you want to talk about?" He set his elbows on the table in front of him and leaned forward, his entire focus on the man in front of him. Raf shifted in his seat.

"I don't… Well… this may not turn out to be an issue, but…"

"It'll be easier if you just put it out there, Raf." Greg said gently.

"Yeah, you're right." He took a deep breath. "Is Spike okay?"

Greg just looked at him for a second. "I'm not sure I know what you're asking, Raf. You've been to see him a lot in the last few weeks, and if there's something else that you're missing, or that I'm missing, you're going to have to give me a bit more information."

"Yeah, but that's just it, Sarge. I don't have that information. He's been through so much, and yet, he's been so… I don't know, energetic… the last few weeks. Don't get me wrong- I'm not complaining about it, but I don't know if he really is fine, or if he's just pretending. I mean, he's my best friend, but I don't know. And that's killing me."

Greg nodded slowly. "Okay, Raf. I can see that. But why do you think I might know? Like you said, you're his best friend- that's a pretty close bond."

"I may be his best friend, but you're like his dad. You practically _are_ his dad." Raf said bluntly. "No one knows him better than you." Greg didn't say anything, and after a pause, Raf continued. "I just thought that, if there were any problems, you might know." When there was still no response from Greg, Raf bit his lip. "I'm sorry, Sarge, I overstepped. Of course you don't have to- well- I- you know what, I'm just going to go-"

"Raf, stop." Greg said quietly, and Raf stopped in his tracks. "It's okay. You didn't overstep. And I don't know if Spike's okay. Here, sit down again." Raf did, slowly. "I know where you're coming from. I've had the same thought myself. But I'm starting to think he is. Okay, I mean."

Raf just looked at him.

"Spike does care about me. And he cares about you. If there really were a problem, he'd tell one of us. If not right away, then soon. I trust him to do that."

"I trust him too… It's just that…" Raf sighed. "Well, if you find out anything, can you let me know? He's- he's really important."

"I know he is, Raf. And of course I'll keep you updated." When Raf smiled and got up to go, Greg motioned for him to stop. "I want to say something else. Could you wait just a minute?" Raf nodded uncertainly as he shifted back to his original position. Greg's eyes softened. "You're not in trouble. Don't worry."

"I just want to thank you." He said after a pause. "For these last few months. You've been… incredible. For this team, for me, and most of all for Spike. And he needed someone like you. A friend like you. So thank you for being there for him."

"Sarge, I can honestly say that it was my pleasure, and that it _is_ my pleasure. I'm a little bit selfish that way." Raf smiled crookedly, and Greg reached out and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Nevertheless, thank you. Come on. It's been a long day, and I know for a fact you haven't eaten yet. I'll buy you dinner. No, stop it. I'm buying you dinner. Let's go, Raf. You deserve it."

* * *

><p>At the beginning, Spike's time in the wheelchair was trying, to say the least. He was still very vocal about his complaints, and the volume and intensity of said outbursts only increased when Laurel came to see him again and compared him to her 87 year-old grandmother. Dean wasn't letting him forget it, and Spike had sputtered for days.<p>

But as time went on, he seemed to accept the inevitability of his situation, and settled into a new routine. He still wasn't happy about it, but he was much less angry than he had been before, and his attitude improved a hundredfold. This made life easier for everyone involved, and the time passed quickly until it was time for him to graduate to crutches.

Spike had decided it warranted a celebration.

So one Saturday evening in the beginning of March, Greg had pulled out the dining room table, and Spike and Dean had made a veritable feast, and the guests started pouring in.

First to arrive were Laurel and Clara. Laurel was immediately in Greg's arms again, and after their customary swings and squeals, went to go hug Spike in a noticeably more subdued manner. Greg watched with approval; at least someone knew how to be careful around the leg. God knew Spike didn't.

But he couldn't watch for very long, because then Ed was walking through the door, followed closely by Sam and Jules. Greg made the appropriate introductions, even though most of them had met Laurel at some point or another in the hospital, and Jules cheerfully struck up a conversation with said child, who found it absolutely fascinating that a girl could wear the cool pants too.

As the individual conversations went on, Greg couldn't help but wonder where Raf was. It wasn't like him to be late, and Greg had just pulled his phone out to call him when there was another knock on the door. When it opened, Raf bounded in, heading straight for Spike. To the tech's horror, he was carrying a huge bouquet of colorful flowers, and a copy of the poster Greg and Dean had made a month earlier. Greg didn't even know where he had gotten it- he was pretty sure all of them had been mysteriously burned.

But there it was, and Raf was holding them out in Spike's face, grinning like a lunatic. "I got you a getting better present!" He all but shouted. "I've decided that I am confident enough in my masculinity to present this poster to you as a reminder of good times. I also got you flowers because I am not as confident about _your_ masculinity." As Spike sputtered, Raf just grinned wider. "Happy getting better, Spike!" He shoved the presents into Spike's hands and pranced off to a corner of the room. Greg dazedly wondered if he had found some "happy" mushrooms on the way there.

But by now Laurel had grabbed the poster from Spike, and was dancing around excitedly. "My teddy bear! You like my teddy bear! See, Mom, I told you he'd like sleeping with it." She turned to Spike. "That used to be _my_ teddy bear, but I'm too old for them now. But it's perfect for you! Oh, I'm so glad you like it!" In the face of Laurel's enthusiasm, Spike had to pretend to be happy about the gift, and Ed walked out of the room to contain his laughter. Sam and Jules were just curled up on the sofa, smiling happily, and Dean was lounging in one of the armchairs.

Greg looked around, and realized that this really was a family, in every sense of the word.

* * *

><p>One day, about a month after that, Greg came home to find Spike and Dean gone. It had happened before; sometimes they went to a movie together, or a hockey game, or even just to drive around. Dean seemed to understand that Spike needed some time out of the house, and was more than happy to indulge him.<p>

So Greg wasn't particularly worried to come home to an empty house. It was still early, after all, and the pair of them were always back by dinner. So he settled down with a book from Spike's library and just relaxed.

He was drawn out of his reverie by his phone buzzing on the kitchen table. He went to get it, not really anticipating anything important, but the message made him frown.

It was from Dean, and all it said was: _We're at Aberdeen and 7__th__. I think you should be here_.

Greg texted him back with a why, but no response was forthcoming, so he grabbed his jacket and car keys and headed out the door. For some reason, the address was tugging at the back of his mind. Why did he recognize it? He couldn't think of it, so he just got into the driver's seat of the car and plugged it into his GPS.

* * *

><p>When he was three blocks away, it hit him. As he got closer and closer, he could see a field stretching out in front of him. He knew exactly what was coming, but he couldn't tear his gaze away, and slowly, a playground came into sight, and then a large brick building with modern windows and an atrium set behind the main doors. It was an elementary school. Tilden Elementary School. The last time he had been here, Spike had nearly died trying to disable a mine.<p>

He rolled up to the edge of the property, and then looked around for Dean's car. It was parked a little further down the road, and Greg slowly made his way over and pulled up behind it. As he got out of the car, Dean came over to meet him.

"Hey Dad." He said quietly. "I'm going to leave you two alone. I'll see you at home whenever you're both ready." When Greg nodded, Dean moved back to his car. "He's over there. And Dad? There's no rush." Greg nodded again, and Dean turned the key in the ignition and drove off.

Spike was sitting on a bench under one of the trees that dotted the grounds, his leg stretched out in front of him and crutches placed neatly by his side. Greg slowly made his way over, and Spike didn't react, didn't move at all, even when Greg sat down next to him silently. He was watching the playground, where a group of children were playing, too far away to be heard, but close enough so that they could see the haphazard paths they followed and the ever-changing groups they split into. Greg turned to watch them too.

Neither of them said anything for a very long time. The sun dipped closer to the horizon, and one by one, the children were led gently from their play by their parents or teachers or guardians. The pair of them just continued to watch, until the swings were empty, and there was no movement in the raised tunnels, or the monkey bars, or the slides. Still, neither of them talked.

An hour after Greg arrived, Spike broke the silence. "Do you remember what you told me here that night, after everyone had left?" His voice was quiet, and he didn't look away from the playground. Greg nodded.

"I told you that these kids, you had saved their lives, and that their families would never forget what you did for them. I told you that you didn't realize what you did for people, and to people. I told you that Lou wasn't your fault."

"Yeah, you did." There was another long pause in the conversation, and then Spike continued. "I think they-" He gestured to the school in front of them. "These kids, and the people that were in those buildings with the bombs- I think they'll change the world someday. I think Laurel will change the world some day." He was still staring at the playground. "And I think I may have helped them do that." He made no move to continue, and Greg didn't turn his gaze away from the school either.

"I think so too." He didn't feel the need to say anything else. It was better to let Spike do the talking.

"I don't regret this year." The tech eventually stated. "I don't regret Cabe, I don't regret those bombs, and I don't regret what he did to me on that boat. It hurt, yeah, and it messed me up, but I think in a weird way it helped me, too." Spike shifted his weight on the bench, and his brow furrowed. "I don't feel as… uncertain, I guess. As afraid as I did. I think I feel- well, I don't quite know how to describe it."

Greg finally looked over at him. "Do you feel happy, Spike?" He asked quietly.

Spike didn't say anything for a long time. Then he nodded. "Yeah… I think I do." He looked almost surprised. "It's been a long time."

"I know." Greg murmured.

For the first time, Spike met his eyes. "Do you think Lou would be happy?" He asked uncertainly. "If he were here, do you think he'd be happy? For me? For us?" His voice quavered for a moment. "I just wonder sometimes…"

Greg sat back slowly and put an arm around the younger man, pulling him a little closer. He looked down at him. "I think he'd be happy. I think he'd be proud, Spike." He said softly. "I think Lou would be so proud of you."

Spike leaned into the contact, but didn't say anything. Not moving his arm, Greg waited silently until he was ready.

"You know what, boss?" Spike looked over at him, and Greg was struck by how peaceful he looked. Spike smiled, turning back to the playground as he opened his mouth.

"It's gonna be okay."

* * *

><p>So that was it, guys. It's been such a thrill, and I want to thank you all for your reviews and feedback and help in general. It means so much to me, so thank you. Let me know what you thought this chapter- or the story as a whole- one more time. See you next time!<p>

Review review!


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